Titanium
by the butt-loving cynic
Summary: Post AoE. A string of robberies centered around Cybertronian technology forces the US government to ask the Autobots for assistance. Crosshairs feels as if he once knew the culprit - yet those memories were buried deep within his processor after NEST was disbanded and his hatred for humans flared to an all-time high. Eventual Crosshairs x OC
1. I

**Oh my God guys I'm writing a fanfiction again. And not just a oneshot. A multi-chaptered story with actual plot.**

**Well, maybe.**

**See, I may have gotten into the Transformers fandom. Big time. Like, so much that I actually wanted to write a full length story about it. I haven't done that since 2012 maybe? I dunno. This will be my first time writing for Transformers so go easy on me. Just kidding - be as brutal as you want. I need constructive criticism. **

**Anyway this is sort of a test run. I really liked the fourth movie and wanted to write something that takes place afterwards using Crosshairs as the main character because fuckin' hell man a robot should not be that attractive. It was either a Crosshairs story or a Knock Out from Transformers Prime story. I flipped a coin and decided to do this one.**

**This first chapter is sort of poor because I'm not very good at expositions anymore. Well, I never really was. But yeah, I'm just trying to set up the universe that is after Age of Extinction. This will be a Crosshairs x OC but it will take some time to develop if I can help it. Don't want to rush things. **

**I have half of chapter two written but if I don't get five or more reviews on the first chapter, I'll just take this down. Nowadays my self-esteem in my writing skills really sucks the life out of me and honestly, I need support. I'm not being an attention whore, I'm just trying to be honest. Plus the fact that I am constantly plagued with writer's block doesn't really help in my desire to continue writing a story; I need all the assistance I can get.**

**Updates will be slow but I will try and write chapters that are fantastic. There will be much more robot action in the next chapter; this was just the boring "blah blah blah this is how it's gonna be" beginning that all stories must have. And I'll try to steer away from cliches. God knows I tend to fall back on them as a crutch.**

**Wow this ended up being a long author's note. I'll shut up now. Remember to let me know if this story is worth continuing because if no one is going to enjoy it, I won't feel the need to write it.**

Chapter One

Today was going to be one of those days where Crosshairs cursed himself for not being more aggressive in showcasing his desire to lead the Autobots. It had started off just fine, of course. Drift and Bumblebee had been sparring as they usually did while Hound was grumbling about a lack of satisfactory weaponry on Earth. The human Optimus had entrusted the remaining Bots to protect, Cade Yeager, was busy tinkering with who knew what in the gigantic, personal garage that had been built for him courtesy of none other than Joshua Joyce. Cade's spawn, Tessa, was off somewhere with the hotshot driver Shane doing disgusting human things most likely.

All had been well until the government had showed up.

Ever since the Hong Kong incident, changes had been made in the United States government. The country could not entirely atone for the brutal actions of Cemetery Wind and its head honcho Harold Attinger, but they had managed to assure that nothing of the sort would ever happen again. Needless to say the remaining Autobots had a very wary relationship with the government and much of humanity, being that they had been ruthlessly hunted down and slaughtered like beasts. With NEST disbanded and much of the humans and Autobots who had been involved killed, affairs were strained. However, a truce had been worked out between the Autobots and the humans of the United States government: help the military if it ever was in need of assistance, and they would have permanent, honest-to-Primus sanctuary.

Frankly, Crosshairs thought it was—how did the humans say it?—_utter bullshit._

There were rumors of rogue Decepticons still hiding out on Earth that hadn't been victims of Cemetery Wind. A sighting here, a minor attack there, but nothing too serious. With Megatron gone and instead in the guise of "Galvatron," most likely also hiding until the opportune moment, neither Crosshairs nor his comrades had an exact idea of what the Cons were going to do. One day Crosshairs knew the Americans would beg them for assistance in finding the Decepticons and destroying the last of them. However, their first priority was protecting the Yeager family—it was the last order given to them by Optimus Prime before he had gone off into the galaxies to find the very creators of the Cybertronian race.

It had been a year since that day and truthfully Crosshairs didn't believe that Prime was ever coming back.

"Look who's back," Hound huffed in a disgruntled tone as he stared out the garage window down at the driveway, where two black cars had just pulled in. "They just can't go a week without checking up on the big scary robots, can they?" The large and robust combat mech crossed his arms and crunched down on the bullet that doubled as his cigar, optics narrowing slightly.

The Autobots resided in the country hills of rural Texas along with the Yeagers. A large home had been built for them in place of Cade's old residence, fitted with the latest technology and gadgets in practically every inch of the foundation. The garage took up most of it, being that it was also the Autobots' housing as well as Cade's shop for all his inventions, and had three different levels. The basement was where the Autobots went into stasis, the main level was where Cade did all his work, and the top floor was for storage and whatnot. The property constantly smelled like motor oil, something metallic, and gunpowder. Tessa Yeager often complained it was less of a home and more of a boot camp, but to the Autobots it was better than hiding out in junkyards and deserts.

"Aw hell," Crosshairs grunted as he rubbed his faceplates, glancing over at Bumblebee and Drift. The yellow scout and the blue samurai-styled mech were also staring out the garage window, their fight halted as the two went still and silent.

While Bumblebee had been the "leader" of their ragtag team during Optimus's absence, this time around that duty was shared somewhat equally among all four Cybertronians. Today, however, Crosshairs was going to allow himself the pleasure of being the boss bot.

After all, he was the best at speaking with the pathetic government officials who would most likely shit themselves at any sign of danger.

"Should we tell Cade-san?" Drift asked quietly in his accented tone, gesturing to the human male who was currently slumped over a worktable, having passed out in the middle of the night due to exhaustion. The man just didn't know when to stop working. An admirable trait considering the work he did often involved assisting his robot defenders with whatever he could.

"Let him sleep," Bumblebee's radio chimed in, voice somewhat fuzzy. Whatever station he was tapping into, the signal wasn't that great.

"I got this," Crosshairs smirked to himself as he brushed the bright green plating of his "trench coat" with a servo impassively. "Whatever they have to say probably ain't so important to Yeager. Besides, we're the ones who they normally wanna talk to, yeah?"

Without waiting for a response he rushed down to the garage door, cracking his knuckles and rolling his head to rid it of a few kinks. Whatever the government agents had to say, it had to be irrelevant; probably some idiotic human in some remote area of Earth thinking they saw a Decepticon and demanding a troop of Autobots to come marching in and take care of it. Crosshairs couldn't help but allow himself a chuckle as he imagined himself at the head of a hundred American tanks, shooting up Cons like the good old days. With NEST and Cemetery Wind gone, things were fairly quiet on Earth. What he wouldn't give for a little more action on this dirt-hole of a planet—action that didn't include him being hunted down, of course.

"Oi!" The green mech cheerfully waved as he stepped out from the shadows of the garage, making sure that as he walked the guns strapped into his coat were visible. "What can I do for you all? Need a little demonstration in firepower?" He tapped the barrel of one of the guns for good measure.

Only one human exited one of the two cars. Crosshairs didn't feel like paying much attention to his appearance but forced himself to listen to his words. The man's voice was surprisingly steady for speaking to a large alien robot, and Crosshairs had to commend him for that. Normally the agents who had never worked with him and his kind were terrified out of their puny, mushy minds in their presence.

"We have a job for you," the man started, not bothering with introductions. Just the way Crosshairs liked it. "We've received intelligence of Cybertronian technology being stolen from various warehouses scattered across America. Some of it was of Decepticon origin and some includes leftover Transformium from KSI. The President would like you to recover this technology and return it before someone copies the designs."

Crosshairs blinked his optics rapidly at the man. The polite and civil act he had worked so hard to develop around humans was rapidly disintegrating as the gravity of the man's words sunk into his processors. "How? We were told that all the information from KSI was either destroyed or placed in hands more than capable to protect it." He scoffed, scorn rising within him at the pitiful claim. "You bastards never keep your promises, do you? It's all words and no action with you. But what else could I expect from mere _humans?_"

"KSI was not the only organization that had Cybertronian technology," the man continued, ignoring Crosshairs' acidic tone. "They were merely the only one that produced products using it."

"And?" Crosshairs snapped, leaning down to glower at the man. It was somewhat humiliating to be at the human's level, but Crosshairs wanted to make sure the man knew what he was dealing with. "You're wasting my time. What's in it for us if we _do_ recover this lost technology? We don't do jobs for free anymore. Not since we watched you humans murder and melt down our comrades for scrap metal."

Crosshairs just couldn't help but drive that barb in.

"Some of it will be given to the Autobots," the man responded, staring Crosshairs straight in the optics with an unwavering gaze. "so that you may use it however you please. Being that you must be running low on your Cybertronian supplies, we surmise that it would be a great advantage to you."

_Oh, that was a poor choice of words, fleshie._

"Why the hell were we not given it in the first place?" Crosshairs growled, slamming his servo down on the hood of the car. A crunch was heard as the metal was punched out of place, but the man stayed stoic and still. If there had been someone else in the vehicle they would be panicking most likely, but the blacked out windows provided little to no intel on that subject. "If it's Cybertronian, it belongs with us! What if Cons got hold of it, huh? You pieces of slag don't think we deserve to own what remains of our universe?"

Rage boiled in the energon that flowed through him and threatened to overheat his circuits. How dare these humans keep them from something like this? If Crosshairs had taken matters into his own hands long ago, he and the remaining Autobots would have left Earth as soon as they'd gotten hold of Lockdown's ship. Damn what orders Optimus had given them! It wasn't worth the disrespect the fleshies showed to the Autobots.

"Because we didn't trust you," the man answered in a truthful tone, looking unapologetic. "But since it's been a year since Hong Kong and you have not stirred too much trouble up, we felt it right to let you know. You may accept the mission if you wish. We will be sending our own troops after the stolen technology—if the Autobots want to join, you will be allowed as your own squad."

"No fucking way," Crosshairs snarled, punching the car's hood once more and standing up to his full twenty-some feet. "All you fleshbags do is act like we're your personal cleanup when it comes to Cybertronian affairs! Lost and found ain't what we were made for. We're warriors for Primus's sake! Do it yourselves. We have better things to do."

The sound of his feet clunking against the concrete as he stormed back to the garage made Crosshairs' anger grow. He despised this dirt-ridden planet, and this encounter had made that loathing grow. Even during NEST, Crosshairs had never been a fan; he'd only come to Earth out of respect for Optimus Prime. Cade Yeager wasn't a bad human at least—in fact, he was one of the better ones Crosshairs had come across. But Cade was definitely not worth the trouble that his government wrought upon the Autobots week after week. Crosshairs didn't have the soft spark that Optimus did. It was time he began to prove it.

"Wait," the man called after the green mech. "We have some evidence as to who stole the technology."

Crosshairs paused for a moment. "…and? Is that supposed to seal the deal for me?"

The man didn't say anything as a noise like something being booted up came from the second car. The headlights brightened and an image was projected onto the side of the garage. Crosshairs watched unimpressed as a video feed played out: a warehouse-like setting, with crates and whatnot scattered across a basement or something like it. For a full minute nothing happened, and Crosshairs was about to return to the garage. However, the feed suddenly went dark and flickered as if someone had tampered with the camera that had been recording.

When the feed returned, nearly all the crates had vanished. There was movement in the corner, and Crosshairs snapped his goggles down to zoom in on the video. A hand suddenly appeared on the feed—one that looked almost exactly like an Autobot servo. But it was impossible. Judging by the scale of the objects in the video feed, the hand was human-sized. There were no Autobots or Decepticons that were that small.

Using his goggles, Crosshairs snapped a shot of the image from the projection, making sure to analyze it later. Despite his reluctance to do what the man had asked, he had to admit that he was now curious.

The hand waved in front of the camera in an almost cocky manner and disappeared for a moment. When it reappeared, it was holding up a sign.

_Tell the Autobots. _

It was written in a hurried scrawl and if Crosshairs hadn't been reading Cade Yeager's handwriting for a year, he probably wouldn't have been able to make the message out. The feed paused there and he stared at it, bewilderment coiling in his processors. Who stole Cybertronian technology and then asked the victims of the robbery to tell the original owners?

"This was taken from a security camera at approximately two A.M. this morning in Nevada," the man's voice broke through Crosshairs' thoughts. "This is the third robbery, but this is the only time the thief has left a message. We are certain it's the same culprit because they always hack into the camera for one hour, and then only about seventy percent of the items are gone."

"Why would they not steal all of it?" Crosshairs found himself questioning. "Are their circuits fried?" While he wanted to put a bullet through the man's head for the simple fact that so much advanced technology was being stored in mere _crates _instead of something more proper, he had to admit that he was now fully interested in the scandal.

"They may not have had time," the human answered simply. "The thief must know that security gets hold of the feed again in an hour. They've obviously been planning this for quite some time. But my question to you, Autobot, is this: are you certain there are no more of you on this planet, and that the thief isn't one of your own?"

The nerve to even ask something proved that either this human had balls of steel or he was just an utter idiot.

"Your government murdered the rest of us." Crosshairs made sure his tone was even but low and his optics bore right into the man's eyes. "With Optimus Prime gone, there are only four of us left. That hand was too small to belong to a Cybertronian. While it may resemble an Autobot's servo, it's not. The same goes for a Decepticon."

Crosshairs fell silent, contemplating the situation. A memory attempted to edge its way out from the back of his processor and he forced it back down; if this string of robberies had something to do with _that, _then he really didn't want to think about it.

Not now.

It would just make his disdain for humans grow, if there were even possible at this point.

"Well? Will you help?" the man asked expectedly. Crosshairs glanced down at him and then to the frozen image on the garage's side, the details of the hand that was holding the sign boring into his optics. As loathe as he was to admit it, he wanted to know who it belonged to and what they wanted with Cybertronian machinery.

"…aye," Crosshairs vented heavily and turned on his heels, refusing to look at the man any longer. "Just send the details to Cade's email. We'll get our supplies ready."

"Excellent." The faintest hint of emotion made itself known on the man's face in a small smile. "Thank you. The President appreciates it. Please be ready to move out immediately."

Without another word he slid into the car that Crosshairs had damaged and the two vehicles started up their engines. The second car stopped the video feed and with a squeal of the tires, both vehicles pulled out of the long driveway and onto the dusty road that led to civilization.

Crosshairs vented once more, going over the image of the robotic hand in his processors. The more he studied it, the more he had to deny the fact that he recognized it. The sheen of the metal, the curve of the digits, the way the plating was layers…every detail burned itself into his memory. He knew whose hand this was deep down. But the fact that he had blocked out the thoughts that concerned the owner made it difficult to remember who it was. Those memories were from five years ago, right after NEST had been ripped apart by Cemetery Wind. Those memories didn't matter anymore.

"Never mind. Being leader of the Autobots sucks," he grumbled to himself as he pushed away the image from his central processor and put it in the back. "I'll leave these decisions up to Drift or Bumblebee from now on. I'd rather lead an assault."

As he made his way back into the garage and to where the rest of the Autobots were, Crosshairs knew that after today that their thoroughly disenchanting Earth vacation was about to get a little more interesting. Whoever the thief was, he would make sure they got a wakeup call in the form of missile to the face.

Even if it turned out that Crosshairs truly did know whoever the hand belonged to.


	2. II

**Surprise! I updated this story faster than I've updated anything in the past three years. Because that is how much I love Transformers and how much I really want to write this.**

**I am pleased with the reviews I got for the first chapter. As promised, this one has much more action and is quite long. Well, long for me. And the ending was a cliffhanger but whatever.**

**Crosshairs is a jerk in this by the way. He will be in most of the story. Because I love him that way. And I want to keep him (and everyone else) as in-character as I possibly can.**

**Again, I would like a minimum of five reviews on this before I update. It spurs me to keep writing and keeps a nice, consistent review count. I don't know when I'll have time to start and finish chapter three, however, because this last month of summer before my first year of college is going to be very busy for me.**

**Also, I mentioned in the first author note that I wanted to write a Knock Out (from Transformers Prime) story. I may actually just put him into this one even though the live-action movies and Prime are two entirely different worlds. However, I believe I could make it work. If you would be up for that, please let me know. It will help me make my final decision. Thanks!**

Chapter Two

"You sure you don't want one of us to stick around, Cade?" Hound questioned in a semi-anxious tone. "Something bad might happen and if we're all gone to investigate this heist, who knows what could happen."

"I'll be fine, Hound," the human shook his head at the large mech's concern. "I've got all these alien guns from Lockdown's ship that I've modified, remember? The government needs all four of you. Don't want to piss them off."

When Crosshairs had told the Autobots about the new mission they'd been assigned, everyone had been eager to go. Like Crosshairs, the fact that there were Cybertronian artifacts and technology being pilfered and most likely being mistreated set their energon to a blistering temperature. The still images the paratrooper had taken from the video feed perplexed the four alien robots and Crosshairs kept it to himself that he felt as if he knew the owner of the strange, almost Autobot-like hand.

Cade had been supportive and told the Autobots that this was something they should do immediately. It was their technology, after all. They had taken quite a lot from Lockdown's ship but it wasn't the same as what the Autobots had first brought to Earth all those years ago, when the Allspark had been fought for. If there truly was Decepticon relics of some sort tossed in with the stolen goods, then it was imperative that the thief was found and apprehensive.

"He says he'll be fine," Crosshairs placed a servo on Hound's shoulder and pushed him forward out of the garage. "Yeager's a capable human. I doubt anyone will try to attack him, anyway. His spawn is at college and will be safe as well. Don't be such a soft spark, Hound."

"I'm just doin' what the boss bot told us to do!" the technical specialist exclaimed.

"We must make haste," Drift interrupted, the usual polite and serene expression on his face plates somewhat strained. Having been a former Decepticon, he had taken it a little harshly when he learned that both Con and Autobot technology was on the line. "The coordinates that were sent to Cade-san are many miles away from here. We must not let the thief get away."

Bumblebee nodded in agreement and transformed into his alt mode of a yellow Chevy Camaro. He revved his engines as if to say, "Hurry up!" and impatiently awaited his three companions.

Crosshairs turned to Cade, staring down at the human man. "I don't know how long this'll take. Best case scenario, we find the thief within a couple days." He couldn't help the grin that made its way to his faceplate. "And then we'll blast 'em apart like they deserve and take back what's ours." The thought of some action at last made his servos twitch, eager to pull a few triggers.

"Be safe." Cade nodded to each of the Autobots. "I mean, you guys _have_ been through worse…just try not to get killed. I still need your help with some of your tech." The last bit was said jokingly but Crosshairs was not in the mood. He just grunted and gave Cade an obligatory nod before following Bumblebee's lead and transforming.

As much as he detested Earth, Crosshairs had to admit that he did adore his alt mode. The emerald Chevrolet C7 Corvette Stingray that he had chosen was one of the few perks of being stuck on Earth. It was sleek and efficient and the shine on his hood was enough to make the stars envious. Of course, he sometimes preferred his helicopter form over wheels, but it was still good enough.

Hound and Drift transformed as well; the former into his mighty defensive military truck that could hold all his artillery and the latter into the indigo Bugatti Veyron Grand Sport Vitesse he sped around in. The four Autobots took off immediately, the coordinates that had been given to them programmed within their navigational system.

"The coordinates of the third robbery was in an underground warehouse near Boulder City, Nevada," Crosshairs sent over their communication system as they turned onto the highway. It was almost empty save for the four robots in disguise and a couple of motorcyclists.

A distressed beep came from Bumblebee. "Boulder City, Nevada…near the historic site of the Hoover Dam…coincidence?"

Upon their arrival to Earth every Autobot had been informed of what had been hidden within the Hoover Dam: Megatron's body and the Allspark. It was no secret that Bumblebee had been tortured there by special government forces. It was basically the place that had started this entire mess; being trapped on Earth to protect humans from Decepticons and the war that they had brought with them. His unease at the location was understandable.

"Maybe, maybe not," Crosshairs answered. "Maybe the humans just have a sick sense of humor." _To store Cybertronian technology so close to where the Allspark and Megatron had been contained…they really have no respect for us, do they?_

There was a stretch of silence as the four Autobots drove. Crosshairs had an idea as to why Bee was being quiet—going somewhere so close to the Hoover Dam, where he had been with his human friend Sam Witwicky when Megatron had awakened. The human was a sore subject for Bumblebee. Many humans were, actually. After Cemetery Wind had gained momentum and NEST had been torn apart, every single human that had been close to an Autobot had been killed. Sam Witwicky had been one of them. The fact that Bumblebee hadn't been able to protect his friend or anyone else was something that the young bot never spoke about, but even Crosshairs knew how much it had hurt Bee's spark.

_Why am I even thinking of this? I don't care that much. Humans are just humans. They're weak, soft, squishy beasts that don't deserve our protection. I'm just doing all of this because it's what Prime ordered. _

In order to interrupt the silence, Crosshairs cleared his vocal processors and sent out to the three Autobots, "It's about a day's ride from here to the coordinates. The human troops supposedly will be there already. We should ride as fast as we can."

"How do we know the thief hasn't already moved on from the area?" Hound questioned gruffly. He never did like it when Crosshairs took charge. "If I were him, I would have hightailed my fat ass out of there as soon as I stole the stuff."

"Hound is correct," Drift added as he sped up slightly, putting himself ahead of Crosshairs. He tended to do that whenever they drove in their alternate modes—a small act of defiance by the ex-Con. "Why should we go to where the robbery was held when we can track them to where their next move will be?"

"Call it a hunch, but," Crosshairs sped up as well, aggressively passing Drift with a squeal of his tires that most likely would leave marks on the highway. Drift honked his horn in response and Hound and Bumblebee fell behind, but Crosshairs ignored them and continued speaking. "I'm positive the thief will be around that area."

"Showoff," Bee's radio blurted out, the voice's tone extremely irked.

"Just shut up and drive," Crosshairs groaned. "Trust me. I'm the residential weapons master now and most of the stolen technology was most likely weaponry. A human would have to be very careful in transporting it all. They probably are storing it somewhere near until they can do so safely."

"Since when did you get into the mind of a thief, Crosshairs?" Hound's accusatory tone came loud and clear across their communication system. "Ever since you started pretending like you were Prime and ordering us all around?"

Crosshairs' first instinct was to transform back into his original robot form and shove a grenade up Hound's aft pipe. However, he forced himself to remain calm and simply kept driving, responding in an aloof voice, "Someone's gotta take charge. If you want to lead this mission then by all means, be my guest, Hound."

"The more you two bicker, the more time we waste," Drift cut in, sounding like a peeved babysitter.

"Don't tell me I'm the only one who's fed up with the 'high and mighty' act Crosshairs has been putting on since Optimus went to find the creators!" Hound exclaimed. "Bumblebee was with Prime since the beginning of the Autobots' arrival to Earth. If anyone should be leading us in Prime's absence, it's the kid!"

The yellow scout gave a humble beep at Hound's words but otherwise remained silent.

"And yet the entire time during NEST's operation, he was guarding a human," Crosshairs snapped, knowing it was a low blow. Hound was grinding his gears, however, and he just couldn't stop himself. "_I _was in the frontlines with the human military until the very end. Drift was a Decepticon still. And you, Hound? You just hung back at the base counting bullets and grenades because your fat ass couldn't get anywhere fast enough."

That last line may have been uncalled for.

"That's _it!_" Hound roared with rage as he transformed from the military truck back into his true form, skidding along the road and creating a metallic whine. Crosshairs barely had time to react as the larger mech turned his servo into a cannon and swung the heavy artillery straight at the green paratrooper.

"So it's a fight you want, eh?" Crosshairs sneered as he transformed as well, dodging Hound at the very last second and rolling off the highway into a ditch. Luckily the two motorcyclists had driven ahead minutes before, otherwise they would be involved in the middle of a robot alien fight. "Come and get me, you slagheap!"

He pulled out two guns from under his trench coat and fired as he leapt at the boisterous warrior, a grin stretched across his faceplates. There was nothing like a good scuffle to get the energon flowing in one's veins.

Hound grunted as the bullets hit him square in the chassis, sending him backwards a few feet. His optics burned with outrage and he tossed a grenade at Crosshairs, shouting incoherently as he fired off many rounds of his machine gun.

The bullets hit the highway around Crosshairs, causing chunks of blacktop and concrete to fly up in the air from the sheer force of the Autobot artillery. The grenade landed right at his feet and with a graceful (if he did say so himself) leap, Crosshairs flung himself into the air and transformed into his helicopter alt mode, rising above Hound and firing a missile at the larger mech. Hound swung his other arm and swatted the weapon away, sending it straight back at the paratrooper. Crosshairs cursed as he leaned hard to the right to dodge it; the missile made a high-pitched whine as it sailed straight into the grassy plain next to the highway and exploded on contact.

"_Enough!_" Drift thundered as he leapt up and grabbed Crosshairs by the bottom rungs of his helicopter mode, yanking the green mech down as chunks of dirt rained over the four Autobots and the smell of burning grass assaulted their olfactory sensors. In the former Decepticon's grasp Crosshairs transformed back into robot mode, struggling to shove Drift away. The indigo samurai would have none of that, however, and with his free hand he pulled one of his swords out and placed the blade's edge against Crosshairs' vocal processor, making sparks fly from the metal-on-metal contact. Crosshairs went still, knowing that Drift was serious, and glanced over at Hound.

Bumblebee had his small servos on Hound's arm, shaking his head in an emphatic motion and beeping frantically. He looked like he could get crushed by the larger mech but stood his ground—the blasted scout always was one who hated when his comrades resorted to violence to solve their problems. He took after Optimus in those regards.

Crosshairs and Hound stared at each other as the thrill of the fight died down, optics locked in a battle for dominance.

Hound looked away first, staring at the wreckage of the highway and field behind them. He vented and gave a groan, scratching his helmet and biting down hard on his bullet-cigar. "Frag," he muttered, shoulders slumping as his arm reverted back to its original state. "I lost my cool there."

"You two act like children," Drift scolded, letting Crosshairs go but not before running the blade along his chin for good measure. Crosshairs shuddered at the sting and knew there was going to be a fresh scratch in his paint. "Without sensei, we must work together whether we like it or not."

"I don't work well with others." Crosshairs glared at the three Autobots as he clenched his servo into a fist. "Never have, never will, not even if Prime returns from his bloody mission. So maybe I act like I'm the leader of our pathetic group? I'd rather give the orders than take them! And if I can't give the orders, then I'd rather be alone. Looking out for me and only me."

"Yes, you have made that perfectly clear many times." Drift gave Crosshairs a condescending and irritated look. "Maybe you would be better off alone and away from us."

Bumblebee glanced at Crosshairs almost apologetically. "I agree," he broadcasted.

"You sayin' we should kick him out for this mission?" Hound blurted to Drift. "As much as he gets on my nerves, Crosshairs _is _part of our team…"

"I think that's a fantastic idea," Crosshairs snapped as he spun around, waving a dismissive servo at the three. "I'll find the thief on my own better than being dragged around with you deadweights. Thank you kindly, _Drift,_" he spat the ex-Con's name with revulsion, "for the solution."

With that Crosshairs transformed into the green helicopter and took off as fast as his engines would let him, blocking the communication link to the three remaining Autobots and following the coordinates downloaded in his processor.

* * *

Traveling by air was so much faster than driving.

Rather than taking a full day to reach Boulder City, Crosshairs reached the location by nightfall. The glamor and glitz of the humans' gambling paradise, Las Vegas, was almost blinding as he had flown over it. _Fleshies really like their lights, _he had thought to himself. But in the desert, Boulder City was quiet and mostly dim—and a perfect place to land was right between the town and the Hoover Dam, which was only miles away.

Crosshairs felt no guilt in leaving the group. He really wasn't made to work well with others; it wasn't in his spark. Maybe during NEST he had been better about it, and during the Great War on Cybertron. But now? Stuck on Earth with millions of squishy humans? No. Until Optimus returned, Crosshairs would look out for only himself.

"It'll be better this way," he said to himself as he flipped his goggles down over his optics and turned on night vision, scouting the dark desert for anything suspicious. There were no signs of the human corps that had been sent to the coordinates; just the way he liked it. "I'll take care of the thief in no time and take back the Cybertronian goods that I deserve."

Some tiny, nearly silent part of Crosshairs' conscience told him that it hadn't been a good idea to go AWOL. A Decepticon attack may happen and without his expertise and skills, the other Autobots would probably get put offline—or worse. But just like the strange and unwanted memories that had awakened at the image of the hand, Crosshairs pushed those thoughts down into his processor and began to scan the area for any signs of abnormalities.

It was strange to be so close to the site that had held Megatron's body and the Allspark. One would expect some energy to linger, but there was not even a speck of it. During the time that NEST had been operating the goings-on in the Hoover Dam had been cancelled. Without the Allspark or Megatron to work on, it was just a regular dam that produced power and doubled as a tourist attraction.

"The warehouse was underground somewhere in the desert according to the rest of the information the humans gave us," Crosshairs said aloud as he crept across the dry sands. His feet sunk down somewhat and he grimaced, knowing that there were going to be grains stuck in his framework after this.

_If I were a human, where would I hide stolen goods from another planet? By tomorrow the thief will be relocating them somewhere safer most likely, so they have to be close. But where—?_

Crosshairs cut his own thoughts off as his optics landed on the outline of the Hoover Dam.

_Bingo._

It was the perfect getaway. Now that the government was cleared out of the site, there would be enough room to store Cybertronian weapons and technology. Plus, being that it had once housed Megatron's body while in stasis, it wasn't a stone's throw to say that the facilities were prepared for Cybertronian goods.

It was just a matter of getting in there without the thief knowing.

"Stealth isn't exactly my forte," Crosshairs shrugged as he transformed into his helicopter alt mode, flying towards the dam, "but what the hell…there's a first time for everything."

Being as thick as the dam's walls were, it would be virtually impossible to hear anything from inside unless the outside was bugged. Crosshairs doubted that a human would be smart enough to do so, but being that they had successfully managed to rob three different warehouses of Cybertronian goods, who knew? It took less than five minutes for him to land on top of the concrete ceiling and transform back, making another scan for anything that would help him get inside. In an ideal world Crosshairs would just blow a hole through the walls and make some noise, but that would alert the thief and allow them time to escape. Crosshairs wanted to see the terror in the human's eyes when he held a gun to their face and blew their head off for stealing valuable property.

_I never said I was merciful._

Optimus Prime would give the human another chance, even after all the slag that the squishy things had put them through. It was the great leader's downfall; his soft spark and the benevolent sprit the damn Prime exhibited. But Crosshairs wasn't Prime. He would never _be _Prime. And so he would make sure the human paid for the disrespect they had wrought.

The scan revealed a door on the side of the building that Crosshairs had landed on. According to the data, it was large enough for him to fit in. It had probably been built for large equipment transport. Crawling towards the edge, Crosshairs jumped down and landed on the second level where the door was, attempting to be as quiet as possible. He didn't feel anything watching him nor did his scans indicate that there was any sign of a camera, but he couldn't help feel the slightest ounce of paranoia.

He held a digit up to the door and activated the laser beam within the machinery, watching as the red light made a rectangle around the doorframe—it was so much easier than finding a way to unlock it. He caught the slab before it crashed to the ground and gently placed it aside, ducking his head into the darkness of the building. After a quick surveillance of the area Crosshairs determined that it was all clear and fit the rest of his body into the building slowly and carefully, keeping his sensors at full blast for any noise or movement that would indicate the thief.

It was completely silent and still inside the building. An impression of abandonment was thick in the air as Crosshairs crept through the hallways, scanning for any sign of Cybertronian energy signals that he could pick up. It appeared that this building had been some sort of office area for the government during the Allspark and Megatron experiments, and that deeper down would be the real prize.

As he thought back to the tales that Bumblebee had spun of the first battle on Earth between the Autobots and Decepticons, Crosshairs' scanners suddenly went off in a frenzy. He froze in his tracks and brought the data up, spark fluctuating with a sense of hope and eagerness.

Right below him was a very large quantity of Cybertronian-level energy that only a mass of weapons and technology could create.

"Gotcha." The paratrooper smirked in cocky satisfaction. It was always easier to do solo missions—you got things done much more quickly than you would with a team. Especially a team consisting of a "fat ballerina," an ex-Con, and a scout too young to even know what the term leadership meant.

There was a cargo elevator to his right. Crosshairs punched the button with his servo and to his surprise, it came to life with a shudder. "So someone is definitely still using this place for the elevator to be operational," he mumbled to himself as he ducked into it. Though it was meant for equipment, it was still somewhat small for an Autobot of his size. According to the scans and the direction of the energy signals, the weapons and whatnot were on the very last floor. Crosshairs hit the correct arrows and pulled out a gun as the elevator dropped down slowly, preparing for a shootout.

This was going to be fun.

When the elevator came to a trembling halt and the door slid open, Crosshairs came face-to-face with something he didn't expect.

A human-sized figure in the darkness holding a gun, the end aimed right at the elevator—and him.

The end erupted with a bullet before Crosshairs had time to process the image before him. His battled-hardened reflexes awoke and the green mech rushed out of the elevator and ducked down, feeling the air slice against his face plate as the bullet embedded itself into the wall behind him. Without missing a beat Crosshairs shot his own gun at the figure and rolled behind a pile of large crates; instead of the telltale sound of metal on flesh, however, there was the sound of the bullet hitting the wall as well.

_They dodged it? Impossible! Humans can't stand up to our weapons!_

Cautiously, Crosshairs poked his head out from behind the crates and peered around with his night vision. The figure was nowhere to be seen in the dark. Confusion filled his processor like an oil spill. How could they have disappeared so quickly? And they had known he was coming, yet all his scans had shown there to be no sign of cameras!

The figure suddenly appeared before Crosshairs' eyes in a flash. They stood on the top of the crates, pointing their gun down at him in an imposing manner. At this angle Crosshairs could make out details of their person, and he had to admit that it was something he never could have expected in a million stellar cycles.

It was a human femme. A young woman. Her hair was curly and dark brown, going down to her shoulders. Her eyes were a lighter shade than her hair and they stared down at Crosshairs with a mixture of what almost looked like hope and fear. On the right side of her face around her cheek and part of her mouth the skin was slightly puckered and looked as if…something had burned her very badly. Her face was somewhat hollow, like she was malnourished. Crosshairs was never one to pay attention to the details of humans but for some reason he could not ignore this one. But her right arm, the one that held the gun, was the most interesting bit of her.

The arm was made of metal. It was gray and the sheen was dull, and all along the side were scratch marks. It was falling into disrepair. The fingers that wrapped around the barrel of the gun belonged to the hand that Crosshairs had seen in the video feed. It was the hand that he had recognized; it was the hand that had made unwanted memories stir up in his processor.

Crosshairs stared at the human femme and she stared back. Her eyes went wide and her hand trembled, the gun dropping to the floor with a clank. Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again as she gaped at him, disbelief etched into the pale skin on her face.

And then she did something Crosshairs never could have seen coming.

"C…Cross…Crosshairs?"

She said his name like she knew him.


	3. III

**My god. I am both astounded and extremely proud of the fact that I have written chapter three so quickly. If you have no idea why, I'll give you a little hint: the last time I completed a full-length fanfic was 2012. I write something about once every two months and most of the time it's not even decent. Writing is seriously my enemy now. But Transformers has turned that completely upside down and I've not been this excited to write in so, so very long.**

**Anyway. The OC of this story has finally been introduced. Her personality will show more in chapter four as well as her supposed relationship with Crosshairs. Despite having put this as Crosshairs x OC, this story will _not _center around romance most of the time. The romance will develop slowly and instead trust and friendship will be focused on more.**

**To respond to a couple of the reviews I've gotten:**

**raynaninja: Your comment meant quite a lot to me! I'm really glad you can read this in their voices because that's what I was going for. It's difficult to write these characters and a lot of the Transformers fanfics I've read are written poorly, so I don't have much of a palette to base off of.**

**T.M. Wolf: Ah damn I totally forgot to explain that I changed it! Even with all my proof-reading I will always miss something important. Well, this chapter does explain, but I'll put it up here too. In the year since Hong Kong Crosshairs has modified himself to become a triple-changer as sort of a way to keep on top. He's competing with Drift basically. I figured since KSI could create Transformers then they could help modify the original Cybertronians' data as a way of apology for the whole ethical debacle. Crosshairs took them up on that and chose a helicopter as his second alt-mode but none of the other Autobots wanted it because they felt like they were fine the way they were. Thank you for pointing that out though! Also I'm screaming because your Sideswipe x OC fanfic was one of the only decent Transformers fanfiction I have ever read and I am honored that this little story caught your attention. I'm inwardly fangirling.**

**Guest: No, she is not half-human, half-Cybertronian. I've seen too many fanfics with it and I'm not going to fall under that particular cliche. But you're on the right track in a way; I'll say that much.**

**Please remember that I would like a minimum of five reviews before the next update. It means so much to see your guys' thoughts and ideas of my story. I very much appreciate it. I don't want to beg but if you don't mind, could you guys make them a little longer and somewhat in-depth responses? It just helps to spur on my desire to write this.**

**Also! No one said anything on the subject of bringing TFP Knock Out into this story, so I'm still undecided. But I want to give my OC a guardian (what Bumblebee was to Sam Witwicky) and so would you please tell me who you'd like for that? It won't be Crosshairs. I already have an idea as to who I want to make the guardian but I'd appreciate your thoughts as well. It can either be a pre-existing Autobot or maybe a character that was never in the fourth movie who may have survived Cemetery Wind. I'm positive I could make that work if need be.**

**Damn I need to stop rambling in my author's notes. You guys probably don't care, do you?**

Chapter Three

Crosshairs stared at the human femme, unable to answer. Why did she know his name? Why was she staring at him the way she was? And why was she the owner of the almost-Cybertronian arm?

"Crosshairs?" the young woman crept closer to him on the top of the crate, careful not to fall off in the dark. "That _is _you, right?"

"How in the Pit do you know my name?" Crosshairs snarled, grabbing her in his servo and bringing her up to his optics. She writhed in his grasp like a worm in a bird's talon, the hope that had been in her eyes now completely overgrown by fear. "Who are you? How did you know I was coming?"

"I-It's me, Crosshairs!" she stammered out as he tightened his servo slightly, watching her expression turn to pain as she struggled to breathe. "It's…Morgan! Don't you r-remember me?"

The name swam around in his processors and the longer it did the less familiar he was with it. He had never known a human femme named Morgan. Unless…

_No. I deleted those memories for a reason._

Crosshairs opened his mouth to say something but a sudden flash of light cut him off. Somehow the basement lights had been switched on. It was momentarily blinding while Crosshairs was using his night vision. He grunted and flipped his goggles back onto his forehead and blinked his optics rapidly, looking around the area that the elevator had taken him to. It looked just like the inside of a warehouse; crates were everywhere stacked in neat piles like the one he was crouched behind. A quick scan showed that inside those crates was just what he had been looking for: the stolen Cybertronian technology.

"Shit," the girl—Morgan—groaned in his servo and glanced up at him with a wild and desperate expression. "He's coming. You have to get out of here. _Now."_

"Excuse me?" Crosshairs narrowed his optics dangerously. "I don't take orders from humans. Who's coming? Why do I need to leave?" He used his free servo to gesture to the crates scattered around him. "I came here to get what belongs to me. I'm not about to let some pathetic _humans _stop me."

"Oh, but I am _far _from a pathetic human, Autobot."

Crosshairs and any other Autobot would have known that voice if he had been half-offline or his auditory mainframes were malfunctioning. He felt his entire body stiffen as he slowly unclenched his servo from the human femme, allowing her to drop onto the crate and cough as she refilled her lungs. The cruel, raspy tone had echoed off the walls of the basement-like area in a way that it was impossible to determine just where it originated.

"Megatron." Crosshairs backed away from Morgan and pulled out two guns, one for each servo. "Or should I say Galvatron? Since your original body was turned into scrap metal—save for your ugly mug, of course."

An unimpressed and sarcastic laugh directly from behind him met his words. Crosshairs spun around to see none other than the remodeled version of the Decepticon leader himself. Galvatron's red optics burned into Crosshairs' as he gave a vicious smile to the green Autobot, the orange, plasma-like center where his spark should have been pulsating gleefully.

"I see you have found my little hoard of treasures," Galvatron spoke in a low and amiable tone like a master congratulating a pet. "How unfortunate. I was hoping to have some time before moving it to a more secure location. No matter. I have what I need. The rest of this is useless to me."

His gaze went from Crosshairs to past his shoulders where the human femme was. Crosshairs turned his head to see Morgan frozen where she had fallen from his servo, metal hand clutching at the wooden surface of the crate. "Except, of course, that." Galvatron stepped forward and pointed a claw at the girl. "You wouldn't believe just how helpful that fleshie has been to me, Autobot."

"Not by choice, you bastard," Morgan spat venomously as she unsteadily got to her feet. Crosshairs hadn't expected such an impassioned response from a human towards the former Decepticon leader.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Galvatron waggled a claw in distaste. "A pet must never raise their voice at their master. You wouldn't want something…_unnecessary…_to come out of it, hm?"

Morgan swallowed and her normal hand grasped the elbow of her metal arm, looking down meekly.

"That's a good human." Galvatron turned his attention back to Crosshairs, who had been silent and still the entire exchange. As much as he wanted to pump a few rounds of iron into the man-made thing before him, Crosshairs knew that with Megatron's mind inside of it, the fight would not be easy. "I'm sure you are wondering why I have allowed you to live, Autobot. I could have had you killed the moment you landed on top of that roof."

"And why didn't you?" Crosshairs asked hotly, speaking at last. "Don't like to get your hands dirty when there's no Pit-spawned Decepticons around to worship you for it?"

"No, Autobot." Galvatron waved a servo at Morgan, and the femme scurried away like a rat into the back of the basement. "I have a proposition for you. Since Optimus Prime's departure into the galaxies, I have been watching you. I have seen the way your fellows treat you—no respect, no admiration for your skills. I could use a bot like you, Crosshairs. I've yet to make contact with my remaining Decepticons on this disgusting planet because I am not certain how they would react to my new form. But you? You could become my second-in-command and together we could escape Earth, away from all these pitiful humans."

"I admit that I would love nothing more than to end my stay on this planet." Crosshairs' digits twitched on the trigger of one of the guns as the firearm begged to be put into use. "But I don't make deals with Decepticons. And if you have been watching me then you should know that I don't take orders from anyone but myself."

"You do not even know my proposition yet!" Galvatron exclaimed like an adult coddling a child. The fake-Cybertronian's patronizing and haughty voice was starting to put Crosshairs' energon into boil mode. Morgan returned from behind Galvatron then, holding a bulky object in both her hands that looked too big to be of human origin. It was slightly rectangular in shape and when she handed it up to Galvatron, Crosshairs caught a glimpse of a screen with Cybertronian letters blinking on it.

His optics widened with recognition. He hadn't seen one since the Great War.

"Is that…a space bridge operator?"

"Precisely." Galvatron gave Crosshairs a nod and held out the object towards the green Autobot. "The only one that survived the transit through the galaxies to Earth. It belonged to one of my Decepticons and when he went offline, the humans confiscated it from his corpse to see if they could make it work. Of course," he scoffed as Crosshairs stared at the Cybertronian technology, "they could not. However, being on Earth for so long has caused the operator's signals to become mixed. It can only transport to ground bridges my Decepticons built during our stay here on this planet. My proposition is for you to assist me in connecting to a space bridge and together we leave Earth. But of course…"

He yanked Morgan off of the ground and clutched her in his free servo, giving her an oily smirk as she turned her face in the opposite direction. "We will have to teach the humans a lesson before we do so. We must remind them who the superior species is."

"Say I agree to this." Crosshairs did not take the operator nor did he lower his weapons. "What of the other Autobots and your Decepticons?"

"We will bring them with us, of course," Galvatron answered smoothly as he began to stroke Morgan's right arm with the tip of a claw in an almost affectionate manner. She winced at the screeching sound of metal scraping metal and the sparks that the contact created. For some odd reason, Crosshairs felt sheer fury at the sight—he had no love for humans, and yet seeing the femme being treated this way put him on edge.

"You may take full control of the Autobots as my second-in-command," Galvatron continued, completely oblivious to the rage that was rising within Crosshairs' spark. "I can make you a Prime. We shall unite the Autobots and Decepticons as one race after millennia of war and rebuild Cybertron. Optimus Prime is gone. His fate was sealed the moment he left Earth's atmosphere in search of the creators. He will never return and while I would have loved to rip out his spark with my own two servos, I can settle for this."

If Morgan hadn't been there, Crosshairs knew he would have agreed. He despised the Decepticons but the desire to leave Earth rose above that acrimony. However, as he watched Galvatron etch more scratches into the young woman's metal arm and saw the pain depicted on her scarred face, he began to have second thoughts. Why did Galvatron have a human femme with him anyway? How had she helped him steal the Cybertronian technology—no, _why _had she helped? Galvatron could have done it without the woman.

And the most important Crosshairs had: why did she have the metal arm that was so familiar to him?

A sudden image bolted across his processors and he nearly tripped over nothing at it. A young human girl was staring up at him with a shy smile, the right side of her face wrapped up in tight bandages. Where her right arm should have been there was nothing but a shoulder that ended, showed bare by the rolled-up sleeves of the hospital gown she wore.

The girl's eyes were brown. The same brown eyes that were now gazing at him desperately from Galvatron's servo.

_No. She can't be from _that _time. But if she is, then…_

That image made Crosshairs' decision for him. He rolled his shoulders and shook his head, stepping forward and aiming one of the guns towards Galvatron's hellish spark chamber.

"Sorry, mate. But I'll be taking that space bridge operator and the human for myself and leave this planet on my own agenda, not yours."

The next few moments happened in a blur.

Crosshairs fired the gun at Galvatron despite knowing that the fake Cybertronian body could dissolve into the Transformium it was comprised of to avoid direct hits. That exact circumstance happened and Galvatron's body dissipated into the tiny black particles as the bullet sped through the cloud, moving a few feet away to re-form itself again. Morgan and the space bridge operator fell to the floor but not before Crosshairs threw the gun high into the air and stuck his hand out, letting both the femme and the technology landing on his palm. Without missing a beat he shoved her onto his shoulder and pushed the bulky controller into her hands, barking, "Hold on if you don't wanna die, human!"

"Wait, what are you—"

Whatever she responded with was lost in the din of the battle as Crosshairs caught the gun and shot at the blob that was Galvatron re-forming himself. The bullets passed through harmlessly but slowed the transformation down, allowing Crosshairs to rush through the crowded area and over to the large metal door that looked like it had once been used for vehicles to go through. If this had been some sort of loading station or a storage unit for large equipment and other objects, then a route for transport had to connect it to the outside world.

Crosshairs was banking on that being the case.

He could feel Morgan's small fingers clutch his shoulder plates tightly with the metal hand as the other one held the controller to her chest. Galvatron roared behind them, most likely fully formed, and a blast of heat coupled with a loud and sharp humming noise notified him to the fact that it was very likely a missile had just been launched at him. Crosshairs leaned hard to his left and hoped the girl would continue to hold on as the missile soared past him and straight into the door of the cargo hold.

Everything became molten metal and debris as the door exploded into millions of pieces, crashing into the tightly-packed crates. Crosshairs' spark faltered for a moment at the thought of many pieces of technology being victim to this scuffle but he didn't allow himself to dwell on it for too long.

"You might feel some turbulence!" Crosshairs warned the girl on his shoulder as he quickly put away his guns and ducked into the hole that the missile had blasted through. He gave himself a moment to praise his brilliance because there was indeed a long tunnel leading out from the cargo hold. Of course, it was currently on fire and covered in rubble due to Galvatron's missile, but that was beside the point.

"I'll tear you apart and devour your spark!" Galvatron screamed behind Crosshairs as he raced towards him through the fiery wreckage. He could feel the sheer blood thirst that radiated from the fake Cybertronian.

Crosshairs plucked Morgan from his shoulder and cupped his servo around her and the space bridge controller, shouting down, "Do _not _move or else you'll be squished during the transformation!"

"_What?!" _she yelped from between his digits, but he had no time to explain. He transformed into his vehicle alt mode and silently thanked Primus when he felt Morgan in the front seat, strapping her in with the seat belt as tightly as he could. The space bridge operator was somewhere in the back seat judging by the weight he could feel. He realized with a jolt that for a moment he had been more worried about the femme than he had been the controller.

Instantly Crosshairs revved up his engines and sped down the tunnel, the squeal of tires echoing off the tight corridors. He heard the telltale clunk of another Cybertronian transforming into their alt mode and knew that Galvatron had turned into the silver and black Freightliner Argosy that had been modeled after Prime's alt mode.

_He's lost his touch in this body. I can beat him with speed—and I can still fly, whereas he can't. _

"Wait, stop!" Morgan shouted from the seat, grabbing his steering wheel and attempting turning it wildly. However, Crosshairs had full control of himself and refused to let it budge as he accelerated his speed.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!" he demanded harshly as Galvatron fired more missiles behind him. Crosshairs had to swerve to avoid them and hoped that the end of the tunnel was coming soon so he could get out in the open. "I'm saving your life, you ungrateful fleshbag!"

"Because he'll activate _it!_" Morgan cried out as Crosshairs veered away from an explosion, narrowly avoiding the blast caused by Galvatron's firing. "And if he does, then you could get hurt! Please, Crosshairs, leave me behind and take the space bridge operator with you!"

While he was curious as to what "it" may be, Crosshairs didn't have time to argue with the femme.

"I'll tell you what I told that ugly piece of slag," Crosshairs swore as the end of the tunnel came into view. There was another door but this time, it looked a lot thicker than the one at the cargo hold. It would take more than one missile to break through it.

He would just have to add another one into the mix then.

"I don't take orders from anyone but myself!"

The world slowed down. Crosshairs could feel the heat from another missile that the enraged Galvatron was firing. If he didn't time this perfectly then both he and the girl would either be at the mercy of Galvatron or blown to pieces. He accelerated once again, making sure that the missile was right behind him as the door came closer and closer and closer. At the last second, right before both he and the weapon crashed into the metal and concrete, Crosshairs braked hard and gave a battle cry as his tires skidded along the tunnel's road and left black marks all over. Morgan was screaming from inside him, clutching the steering wheel like it was going to save her life.

Crosshairs transformed into his helicopter alt mode as Galvatron screeched to a halt as well. Oh, how he loved this mode. Before KSI had turned all their Cybertronian data over to the government, Joshua Joyce had offered to "modify" the Autobots as an apology for deliberately tearing apart alien robot ethics. Crosshairs had been the only one to take him up on the offer and had asked to be able to transform into a helicopter like Drift. He would never admit it, but it was a ways to get one over on the ex-Con. The tunnel was a little too cramped for him in this form but he still managed to fire off a missile of his own at the door right as Galvatron's hit it full force.

The explosion would have knocked a lesser bot backwards but Crosshairs had dealt with explosions of this caliber and at this distance all the time during NEST. He just hadn't dealt with them while having a screaming passenger. Refusing to let Morgan's shrieks distract him Crosshairs forced himself out of the gaping hole in the door and into the blackness of the desert, dodging debris and flames this way and that.

_Damn, I'm good!_

Crosshairs didn't allow himself any time to rest for even a moment despite the strain that was being put on his frame from the rapid transforming in a small area. His chopper blades whirred around quickly as he rose into the sky, turning on his search lights and aiming them at where he'd just exited. They were outside the main part of the dam a good fifty feet away and as Galvatron emerged from the explosive wreckage, aiming his cannon-equipped arm at Crosshairs, the paratrooper fired two more missiles.

The desert erupted with the sound of Galvatron's infuriated howling and the missiles making a direct hit on him.

"Hah! Try withstanding that!" Crosshairs sneered as he hovered in the air for a minute, watching as flames licked the area around the tunnel door. When the smoke cleared Galvatron was nowhere to be found—unless he had escaped back into the collapsing tunnel, the second form of Megatron had been obliterated into Transformium particles due to the blast.

He was hoping it was the latter because while it may not kill him, it would cause Galvatron some heavy damage.

"Argh!"

An anguished grunt from inside Crosshairs' helicopter mode took his attention away from the explosion site. "Uh…femme? Morgan, was it?"

"N-now you've…gone and done it…" she groaned and he could feel her slump against the pilot seat. "You should have…left me there…"

"Wait, what's wrong? You're not going to get sick and vomit organic bits all over my interior, are you?" Crosshairs truly wished that wasn't the case.

"No, I'm—" She broke off into a gasp and he felt her curl up into a ball, her metal hand gripping the seat tightly. There was a moment of silence and Crosshairs wondered if she'd gone into stasis or offline or whatever the human equivalent was.

"…you've changed." Just as he began to fly through the air and away from the dam, Morgan spoke. Her voice was barely audible but his superior senses picked it up easily. "You really don't remember me, do you? I suppose it's understandable…being what happened to you and the rest of the Autobots…"

"No, I don't remember you," Crosshairs admitted brusquely. "I don't _know _you, human." He was going to pretend, at least for now, that the image he had seen of a girl similar to Morgan only younger had never appeared in his processor. "I'm taking you back to our base even though saving a human isn't exactly in my code after what your kind has done to us. Cade will know what to do with you."

"You're going to regret that," Morgan whispered. He felt her body becoming slack once more, the grip on his seats loosening until it was barely there. "I'm so sorry…for what's about to come…"

She was silent after that. Crosshairs waited a couple of minutes as he flew over Las Vegas once more to see if she was in stasis or the human version of it for sure. When he was positive, he vented heavily and re-activated his comm link with his fellow Autobots.

As much as he hated to admit, after this going solo wasn't the greatest idea.

"Oi. Drift." Crosshairs kept his tone steady and as monotone as he could as he sent the message to the ex-Con, knowing it would be best if Drift was the first to hear of this.

"Crosshairs?" Drift's reply came immediately and he sounded surprised. "I was not expecting any contact from you for a couple of days. Did you make it to the coordinates? We are about three-fourths there."

"Yeah, I made it here." Crosshairs paused as he thought of how to word everything. "I found the thief. And the stolen goods. The hideout was inside the Hoover Dam, by the way. Looks like Bumblebee was right."

"Truly?! Have you taken them back and apprehended the human?"

"That's the thing. It wasn't just a human who stole everything. But I do have the human with me. She's passed out and I'm in my helicopter alt mode. I'm going to take her back to the base. I left most of the goods back at the dam but I have acquired one very important item. I ain't gonna tell you over comm link just in case we're being bugged."

He could practically feel Drift's unease over the communication system.

"…then who else was involved?"

"None other than Megatron reincarnate, Galvatron himself."

"…oh, slag."

"My thoughts exactly."


	4. IV

**I can't stop writing this story. It's brought my muse back to life and even though it's far from perfect, I am so fucking happy when I write this.**

**I apologize for the lack of action in this chapter, but this is mainly dialogue and inserting Morgan's presence. Her personality isn't _terribly _strong at the moment but that's because she's kind of nervous being around everyone. She'll come around.**

**This was written off and on all day today so I kind of got ahead of myself and made it really long. Whoopsie.**

**And now you shall know how Morgan knew Crosshairs and the truth about her arm! I hope this isn't turning Mary Sue-ish or cliche. Please let me know if it is.**

**For the guardian thing...I still haven't completely decided, but it will be one of three characters: Mirage (I really want to bring him in but I don't know if I'll make any other Autobots appear), Bumblebee, or Hound. I'm not confident in my ability to write Mirage properly, I don't know if Bumblebee will be up to the task of being a guardian again with Sam gone, and Hound may not be the greatest robo-dad out there for a girl with Morgan's issues. But I should make up my mind fairly soon. **

**Once again, I remind you all: five reviews before the next update, please! Enjoy chapter four of Titanium!**

Chapter Four

The lack of pain was what made Morgan wake up.

Her eyes shot open and instantly her left hand went to her right arm, clutching the lukewarm metal so hard that part of her wished she could crush it. She stared at it like it was a foreign beast and not something she had lived with for the past six years. She half-expected to be laying in a makeshift bed of dirty blankets piled on top of a cold, hard cement floor with the red eyes of Galvatron burning into her, but a string of recent memories assaulted her brain and knocked that notion away.

_Crosshairs saved me._

It had to have been him. She would have known that faceplate and cocky tone even if she'd been senile and blind.

"…where am I?" Morgan shifted her attention from her arm to the room around her, taking in the surroundings. The bed she was in was warm and comfortable with thick sheets wrapped around her tightly. The room's walls were white but covered with photos everywhere—a young, attractive girl with blonde hair laughing, the same girl kissing the cheek of an equally attractive young man with facial hair, the girl hugging an older and yet again attractive man as the two grinned gleefully at the camera. The curtains over the window were lacy and white and did nothing to stop the bright rays of sunlight from covering the room in a white glow. The dressers were painted a light shade of purple and had jewelry draped neatly across the tops and the floor was a clean, plush carpet. It looked like the average teenage girl's room.

Except, of course, the picture on one of the dressers that featured the girl, the two guys, and four large robots standing in front of a garage-like building.

Morgan's gaze instantly went to the robot on the far left. Her legs slid out of the bed without asking her brain for permission and she staggered over to the picture, the weakness and exhaustion she felt in her entire body a tad overwhelming. The scowl that graced the mech's faceplate, the way the electric-blue optics narrowed at the camera, and the posture he held—arms crossed, slouching slightly, one gun peeking out from behind a silver and dark green trench coat…there was no doubt about it. It was Crosshairs.

But not the Crosshairs Morgan had known.

Her heart felt like someone had taken a pair of scissors and rammed it straight into her arteries as she recalled the scene in the dam. He had acted like he hadn't known her. He had _told _Morgan that he had never met her. He had been ready to kill her at a moment's notice like she was worth nothing to him and that terrified her more than Galvatron did because with the noncommittal way he had looked at her, Morgan knew it wasn't an act.

She placed the photo gently back onto the dresser and stumbled back a few inches, the back of her knees hitting the bed. The lack of pain in her right arm and the rest of her body distressed Morgan but the fact that she felt more tired than she had in a long time meant that _it _had happened while she had been passed out. Galvatron had survived the massive explosion that Crosshairs had created—she was more certain of that than anything.

She just wasn't certain of where she was or why he hadn't come looking for her already.

The creak of the bedroom door opening made Morgan flinch and she spun around to see the older man from the pictures. In his hands was a plate covered with a flimsy paper towel and the aroma that wafted from it made her mouth water and stomach clench as it embarrassingly reminded her of how empty it was. In person the man was even more attractive in the picture—he had a kind, caring face and there was laugh lines by his mouth. There were dark splotches of what looked like grease here and there on his cheeks and a five-o-clock shadow covered his chin, the same shade as the messy mop of brown hair on his head. His arms were muscular and tan and also covered with grease stains, and he appeared to be in his mid-to-late thirties.

"Oh, hey! You're awake. Good!" He gave Morgan an easy smile and held out the plate in a way reminiscent to a peace offering. "I've got some eggs and hash browns left over from breakfast if you're hungry. Sorry if it's not the best—I can't cook unless I use ketchup." He laughed at his own joke and Morgan just stared at the extended plate in silence, debating on whether or not to take it.

"…thank you," she mumbled at last when her stomach groaned weakly once again, grabbing the plate and sitting down on the edge of the bed. Taking the paper towel off revealed that indeed, it was eggs and hash browns topped with a fine layer of red ketchup. Not really caring about appearances Morgan took the plastic fork from the side of the plate and began to devour the food like a starving beast, barely tasting it.

"My name is Cade Yeager. I'm basically liaison to the Autobots now but I prefer referring to myself as just an inventor from Texas. This is my daughter, Tessa's, room. She's in college at the moment so she won't mind if you use it." The man rambled as Morgan ate and his friendly, paternal tone of voice sunk into her mind and forced her to relax. It was strange—she immediately felt comfortable as she listened to him speak and ate his food, something she hadn't felt for quite some time.

When she had finished the plateful of breakfast, Cade Yeager stuck his right hand out. "And what's your name?" The relaxation Morgan had felt instantly vanished as she realized he wanted to shake hers. Paranoia crept up her spine as she shoved her own right hand underneath the thick blankets on the bed, desperate to cover the gray metal. Cade frowned at her action but said nothing and just stood there, waiting for her to answer with his arm still extended.

"Morgan." She finally brought her left hand up—the one that was human—and awkwardly touched his in a feeble imitation of a handshake. "Morgan Cooper."

_Of all the people to see it, why does it have to be Mr. Hot Dad?_

"Well, Ms. Cooper," Cade's grasp on her hand was firm as he shook it before pulling away and taking the plate off of her lap. "Now that you're up, I'm gonna have to inform the big guys. You've been unconscious for two days. The Autobots have been anxious to talk to you. I mean, I have too, but being where Crosshairs found you…I think they get precedence over me. Save for this."

"N-no!" Morgan winced at the desperation in her tone as she rushed to her feet, shaking her head wildly and hiding her right arm behind her back. "I-I mean…don't tell them just yet. I don't…I'm…"

Nothing was going to come out right. Morgan sighed and looked up at Cade with a meek expression and asked quietly, "Could I use your shower? I just need to get cleaned up first. I can't…remember the last time I really got to." Her cheeks flushed at the humiliating confession and she hoped that she hadn't stunk up Tessa's bed too much.

"Yeah, of course!" Cade nodded brightly. "It's just down the hall from Tessa's room. You can find some clothes of hers to wear, too. She brought most of it with her to college but I'm sure there's something in here that'll fit."

Morgan glanced down at herself as a stab of insecurity made itself known. Judging by the thin proportions of the girl in the photos, Morgan doubted that all one hundred fifty-plus pounds would fit in anything Tessa owned. "Actually," she swallowed thickly, "I'd rather just wear something baggy and old, if you don't mind." She gestured to the oversized t-shirt and cargo pants that she currently wore, both items ratty and torn here and there from days of wearing them.

Cade locked eyes with Morgan for a moment and she fidgeted where she stood, gripping the back of her shirt with her right hand. His gaze flickered to the right side of her face for a split second and she felt the puckered skin sting as if it had been slapped. However, Cade merely nodded and gave her another relaxed grin.

"Sure. I have some work clothes that you could wear. I'll put them outside the bathroom door for you. Don't know about any, uh…" he gestured to his chest and made awkward cupping motions. He cleared his throat and turned towards the door, stammering, "Y-Yeah, you know what I mean. Uh…have a good shower. I'll be in the garage if you need me."

Morgan glanced down at her chest and a quiet laugh bubbled in her throat. That had been a total dad move. "He's not too bad, I guess. At least he didn't say anything about…"

She trailed off and ran a hand through her unruly nest of tangled curls that she called hair. _Shower first, self-deprecating thoughts later. _

Now with some food in her system Morgan didn't feel as fatigued as she had immediately after waking up. She crept out of the bedroom and glanced down the hallway; seeing no sign of Cade, she opened the first door after Tessa's room and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was indeed the bathroom. It was quite large and had a country-style feel to it with cheesy décor everywhere. Without hesitation Morgan yanked off her gross shirt and slid out of the dirty cargo pants, tossing them into a pile on the floor along with everything under them. She would just have to deal with wearing the same underwear and bra, but she didn't mind terribly.

Morgan stepped into the shower and turned the water on, sighing in relief as the hot liquid poured over her dusty, grimy body. Grabbing the bar of soap from its pedestal she began to furiously scrub every inch of herself, careful to not get any suds on the metallic surface of her right arm. God, it felt good to get clean after who knows how long.

Her fingers grazed the right side of her body carefully, running over the raised and reddened patches of flesh. She winced as she gently washed the area from her shoulders down to mid-thigh, remembering the way Cade had looked at her face where there were similar scars. "Even the nicest people will look at you like that, Morgan," she scolded herself. "It's not normal."

_And neither is having a metal arm._

Despite the desire to stay under the warm spray of water and enjoying the sensation of cleanliness, Morgan knew she had to get out eventually. When she felt that her body was sufficiently lacking any speck of dirt and her snarled hair-monster was calmed at last, she turned the shower off and stepped out onto the linoleum of the bathroom. Grabbing one of the fluffy towels from the rack, she wrapped it around her damp body and went to the door, cautiously cracking it open and peeking down. True to his word, Cade had placed a folded up faded t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts in front of the doorway.

Morgan felt a lot more comfortable once she was safely clad in the oversized clothing. Sighing deeply, she looked into the mirror at last and prepared for the worst.

She didn't recognize the girl in her reflection.

There were dark shadows under her brown eyes and her face was a lot paler than she remembered it. Her hair had gotten slightly longer and it lay in limp, damp layers against her neck. Morgan had lost count of the days she'd been in that dam with Galvatron but obviously it had been a lot longer than she had realized. Her cheeks were thinner and the rest of her was too, but she was still heavy enough that it made her loathe her reflection.

"No time to dwell on how fat you still are," Morgan mumbled to herself as she quickly ran her fingers through her hair, deciding to just leave it down for now. "It's time to face the music and talk to Crosshairs. And…the rest of the Autobots."

Nausea bubbled in the pit of her stomach and rose hotly to her throat. Morgan had to swallow the bile down and force herself to leave the safety of the bathroom and make her way through the hallway, down the set of stairs, and into a large and homely kitchen. Cade was nowhere to be found but a door next to the fridge caught Morgan's attention; there was a light switch panel with tape right over it reading "garage."

"Here goes nothing," Morgan hissed through gritted teeth as she warily opened the door and stepped into the garage.

She was not expecting the scene that greeted her.

The garage was ten-times bigger than Morgan would have predicted for a farmhouse. Technology was scattered everywhere—she recognized Cybertronian guns and armor and the like paired with things like fridges, tractors, various car parts, large miscellaneous machinery…it was like a robot had thrown up and scattered its insides across the floor. There was a level above her with a grated floor where she could see smaller equipment and machines and judging by the way her feet echoed, probably a basement of some sort under the level she was currently in. It smelled like oil, gasoline, and something like gunpowder. The scent was a bit overpowering at first and she could feel a massive migraine implanting itself within her brain.

"Morgan!"

She glanced in the direction of where her name was being called to see Cade standing in front of some machinery, waving her over. She began to walk towards him but did a double take when the machinery behind him began to move.

Four Autobots, to be exact.

The smallest one caught Morgan's attention first. His paintjob was one of bright yellow and black and he waved playfully at her. She got the vibe of an overly excited puppy dog emanating from him and couldn't help but think he looked kind of, well, adorable. His faceplate practically beamed when she timidly waved back and strangely enough her heart instantly warmed at the sight of him.

The large and heavyset Autobot next to him had an extremely bushy beard of wires and was chewing on a bullet like it was a Cuban cigar. His paintjob was akin to camouflage and his entire presence screamed "Rambo," especially the army helm that covered his head. He gave Morgan a jovial grin and for some reason, she got the feeling that he was the one of the group who told really bad jokes and then laughed loudly about it for hours after the fact.

Standing next to that one was a tall, intimidating Cybertronian parallel to what ancient Japanese samurai looked like. His color pattern alternated between black and bright blue and his faceplate was sheer gold with a samurai-like helm accompanying it. Two swords poked up from behind his back and he gave Morgan a polite, silent nod. Definitely a to-the-book and stealthy warrior type if there ever was one.

The last Autobot, of course, was one she knew quite well.

Crosshairs looked almost exactly like she remembered him. The green trench coat-like plating that stored his guns and other artillery, the goggles on his forehead that he used to research and scan weaponry, the black mustache patterns above his mouth plate…the only difference was that instead of a cocky smirk, he greeted her with a scowl that would make even a Decepticon shiver. Morgan felt herself recoil when he stared at her right arm and quickly shoved it behind her back, turning her body so that her left side was more visible to him and focusing on Cade. With every heartbeat, a tiny sliver of internal agony swam through her bloodstream.

"Everyone, this is Morgan Cooper," Cade said to the four Cybertronians. "Morgan, this is Bumblebee. His vocal processors are damaged so he can't speak." He gestured to the smallest of the group and Morgan fought back a smile. _A very apt name, _she thought to herself as Bumblebee puffed out his chassis proudly. _He's adorable like one, but he probably stings like a wasp in battle._

"The name's Hound, little lady," the stout Rambo-esque Autobot boomed and immediately Morgan got the impression of a robot Santa Claus. He grabbed his helm and took it off, giving her a chivalrous nod. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"I am Drift." The taller one placed his hands together and bowed respectfully to her. The action just proved the whole Japanese appeal he had going on, and Morgan enjoyed the homage to human culture. He even spoke in an Asian accent that was slightly difficult to comprehend at certain points

"You already know Crosshairs." Cade looked up nervously at said Autobot, who just grunted vaguely. Morgan could feel his optics burning into her but she refused to look at him, shifting nervously and instead clearing her throat and ignoring the urge to throw up.

"Um…what happened to the spacebridge operator?" Morgan questioned anxiously.

"It's here," Hound answered her, glancing over at Crosshairs who was still remaining silent and just staring at Morgan. "Along with a bunch of other stuff from the dam. What wasn't damaged, that is. We've been working on some of it to get it working again."

"After Crosshairs returned with you, the rest of us went to the dam," Drift explained. "There was no sign of Galvatron. We gained custody of much of the stolen goods and the rest was put into the hands of your government once more. Do not worry—we told them nothing of you or the spacebridge technology. It is something we would rather keep to ourselves."

"Why were you with him?" Bumblebee cut in then. The sentence sounded like it was comprised from different voices at different frequencies and Morgan realized that he was speaking through the radio. Pretty handy if you asked her.

"Galvatron?" Morgan squeezed her eyes shut and shuffled her feet as she felt the eyes of all four Autobots and Cade on her. "…it's a long story."

She sighed and brought out her right arm into the light. "I was in Hong Kong when the KSI prototypes attacked. I'm a hacker, you see. I get paid to mess up people's computers and steal information. I guess…Galvatron found me through that and decided I would be an asset. It wasn't like I could stop him or anything. I'm just a human, even with this damn arm. For the past year I've been hacking into the US government's databases with his help to find certain Cybertronian relics. I hacked into your guys' comm links a while ago. After the third robbery I made that sign so that you guys could find it. Galvatron figured it out, though. Turns out I wasn't as sneaky as I thought."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Morgan continued. The more she spoke, the easier the words came out, and Morgan came to the realization that the amount of relief that she felt finally being able to tell someone about this was extraordinary.

"That's how Galvatron knew you were coming to the Hoover Dam. But the comm link was the only thing I could get through—your location and stuff was really hidden beneath a bunch of firewalls, and if I tried to get past it then there was going to be virus problems." Morgan flexed her metal arm and made a fist, holding it up higher as at last she forced herself to look Crosshairs straight in the optics.

"I did it using this. Crosshairs made it for me five years ago after the Chicago attack."

"_Bullshit!_" Crosshairs blurted out, finally speaking. His tone was harsh and vindictive. Some primal instinct told Morgan to run as fast as she could and hide from him before he did something rash. "Why the hell would I do that for a human?"

Hound, Drift, Bumblebee, and Cade all looked from Morgan to Crosshairs and then back to Morgan. The words got caught in her throat and she felt like she was going to choke on them as she struggled to continue, pretending like Crosshairs' outburst hadn't happened.

"My father worked with NEST when it was still in operation. He was just a medic for the troops and never really came in contact with the Autobots. We were in Chicago when all that shit went down. He was off-duty that day and we were downtown to watch some musical. Obviously, that didn't happen."

Morgan scoffed bitterly as she lowered her arm to her face, gingerly touching the scars with the tip of a metal finger. "A Decepticon grenade or something went off, I think. I was close enough to it to get burned. Really, really badly. My arm got the worst of it. Dad had to amputate it because it was never going to heal."

"Oh boohoo," Crosshairs snapped callously. "You should have known as soon as the fight began to get out of there and run like the pathetic human you are."

The words were worse than a bullet to the head.

"Crosshairs!" Hound snarled and Bumblebee stepped towards Morgan almost protectively. "That was uncalled for!"

"Be quiet and let her finish, you fool." Drift's polite tone was dripping with contempt as he glared at the paratrooper.

Cade remained silent but gave Morgan a fatherly, worried expression. She just shook her head and continued her story. "I was fourteen then. A year later, NEST was disbanded by the government and Cemetery Wind began to hunt down the Autobots. We were living in Michigan and I was recovering from my burns. One day…"

She pointed to Crosshairs and despite the venomous "if looks could kill" glower he was emitting, Morgan managed a half-smile. "Crosshairs showed up. Turns out, he remembered my dad's name and knew that he had been part of NEST. He told my dad he was hiding from Cemetery Wind. Dad let him stay in our garage and for a few months we kept him hidden. During that time, Dad was trying to make me a prosthetic arm."

"What about…your arm?" Hound asked gently, glancing down at the appendage. "It looks Cybertronian."

"Because it is."

"_What_?"

Four very dazed Autobot faceplates and one human face gaped at Morgan like she had said she was Megatron.

"My arm is Cybertronian," Morgan repeated firmly. "Apparently, Crosshairs decided to help my dad in making me a prosthetic in return for hiding him away. One day he disappeared for about a week. I thought…I thought he'd been killed by Cemetery Wind."

"Well, obviously I wasn't," Crosshairs muttered dryly, but Morgan could tell that even he was now interested. It was in his body language—the way he leaned forward, how his optics darted around, his constant fidgeting.

"When he came back, he had some Cybertronian remains. He never said if it was Autobot or Decepticon. Together, my father and Crosshairs melted them down created me a prosthetic arm. And…voila." Morgan gave a passive wave of her right arm to prove it. "I can't transform it like you Autobots can transform your bodies however. It's connected to too much organic matter. At least, that's what Crosshairs told me. But I can hook it up to computers and stuff and download data like it's a flash drive."

"What about your father?" Cade cut in. "Why didn't he contact the Autobots for help when Galvatron kidnapped you? And where was your mother in all of this?"

"They…" Morgan shrugged nonchalantly but felt her eyes mist over. She rubbed at them angrily, refusing to let herself cry. She couldn't afford to be weak. Not anymore. "My mom was in a car accident when I was seven. A year before Hong Kong, Dad had a fatal heart attack. Cemetery Wind never tracked us down because he had never been directly involved with the Autobots. After my arm was built, Crosshairs disappeared without a word. I was eighteen when Dad passed away and so I started to move around the world using my hacking skills to get money. I'm twenty now."

"Oh, Morgan, I'm so sorry…" Cade's mournful expression gave the impression that he wanted to hug her and frankly, Morgan didn't think she would mind it. The Autobots said nothing but Bumblebee did scoot closer to her, looking down with an apologetic gleam to his optics.

"It's fine. I've had plenty of time to mourn." Morgan shook the negative emotions away and turned her attention to Crosshairs. "Now it's my turn to ask the questions. Do you really not remember me, Crosshairs? Or are you just pretending because it'll ruin your reputation?"

"I _really _don't remember you!" Crosshairs snarled harshly before glancing at his comrades. "How do we know she's telling the truth? This could all be a lie! I'm pretty damn sure I would remember something as important as giving a human a Cybertronian arm!"

"Unless you deleted the memories from your processor." Hound gave Crosshairs an interrogational stare.

Bumblebee made a beeping noise and nodded in agreement. Drift crossed his arms, joining in on the cross-examination gaze. "It has been known to happen, Crosshairs. Perhaps you did not want to endanger them in case you were captured and so you deleted the memories."

As the Autobots spoke, Morgan's mind rewound to the day when Crosshairs first appeared to her and her father. The terror that she had felt when she had first seen the green sports car transform into a robot had been enough to nearly give her a heart attack. While Crosshairs had been somewhat grumpy and pessimistic, she had truly adored spending time with the Autobot.

Sitting in the driver's seat of his alt mode and listening to him go on and on about his accomplishments during the war until she fell asleep…

Watching him and her father work on the heap of metal that had apparently once been a Cybertronian so they could give her a new arm…

Showing him terrible game shows that made him constantly question the intelligence of the human race…

And most importantly, the days where Morgan's mind had gone to a dark place; the days where she would do nothing but cry and refuse to move because her stump hurt so much and she felt like she would never be able to amount to anything ever again.

Crosshairs had stuck with her during those times. He'd comforted her as best as he could in his impatient, obstinate ways. Crosshairs had sworn to give her another arm to replace the one that his kind's war had destroyed and he hadn't rested until his promise was kept.

Maybe if Morgan reminded him of it all, he would remember too.

A surge of hope rose up in Morgan's chest like a phoenix. It washed her in comforting, soothing warmth from head to toe as she looked up at Crosshairs optimistically. "You were my best friend for quite a few months, Crosshairs." She spoke softly and turned her head so that her scars were showing. "I thought I was going to be a useless invalid for the rest of my life and you gave me a gift. I'm not lying. I would never lie to you about something like that."

_But I'm lying to you about other things._

Guilt sliced right through the positive emotions in her chest and split Morgan in half. She _knew _Galvatron was still alive. She _knew _that at any given moment, he could activate _it. _And then Crosshairs truly would have a reason to hate her other than just being human.

"Could I speak to you privately?" Morgan continued. "Please? I just…need to get some things off my chest. Even if you don't remember me, I really need to say them."

"…alright, fine," Crosshairs vented in defeat. He threw his servos in the air dramatically and added, "Even though you're a human, I've never been the type of mech to disappoint a femme."

"But you're the type to manhandle one," Morgan muttered under her breath as the memory of his servo squeezing the air from her lungs decided to make itself known.

"I'm not comfortable letting you two alone together," Hound admitted gruffly, crossing his arms and chomping down on his bullet. "Crosshairs might lose his temper like the hothead he is and Morgan could get hurt."

"I ain't gonna shoot her!" Crosshairs snapped exasperatedly and did an impressive roll of his optics. "I'll be nice and civil."

"Come on, guys. Let's give them some space." Cade gestured to the garage door that was meant for vehicles to drive in and out. "There aren't many places you can be alone in this garage, and Crosshairs is obviously too big for the house. Why don't you take a drive?"

"A drive?" Morgan glanced over at Crosshairs uncertainly. "Are you…okay with that, Crosshairs?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Crosshairs waved a servo impatiently. "I need some exercise anyway. Being stuck in here for two days waiting for you to wake up isn't exactly my ideal pastime."

Before anyone else could object, Crosshairs transformed. Though Morgan had watched Galvatron do it many times in the past year, there was something about the way Crosshairs did it that was…incredible. His plates gracefully shifted as switched from a robot to a car. There was an almost haughty impression as his body folded up compactly and his limbs turned into the body of the vehicle; a showoff-y "I can do this better than you can" sense that was evocative of the old Crosshairs Morgan had known.

When the transformation was done, Crosshairs swung the driver's side door open. "Get in," he grunted over the radio.

Morgan couldn't deny the anticipation that was racing through her veins as she quickly slid into the car and settled down into the leather seat. Yes, she'd ridden in him when they were being chased by Galvatron, but this was different. This time she was going to enjoy the ride without having to worry about him being hit by a missile.

Plus, this time she could allow herself to get comfortable before the nauseating switch from car to helicopter happened. Or so she hoped.

"If you harm her, Crosshairs," Hound warned as the garage door lifted up to reveal a large driveway that fed into the highway, "I'll shove a grenade into your spark chamber so fast you won't be able to tell Primus what happened when you see him in the Well."

"I shall assist you," Drift added almost cheerfully, cracking his servos.

"Count me in!" Bumblebee chirped from his radio.

"You gits really think I have no morals." Crosshairs revved up his engines and the seatbelt snapped across Morgan's chest of its own accord. The seat rumbled beneath her as he sauntered out of the garage and into the daylight and she had the overwhelming desire to grab the steering wheel, step on the gas pedal, and just go. But, of course, when the car you were currently in was an alien robot from a distant galaxy that would be quite rude.

"I'll be fine," Morgan called out to the group in the hangar. "Don't worry about me."

_If Galvatron finds us, it's _Crosshairs _who you should be worrying about._

"Be back by sunset!" Cade yelled as Crosshairs began to drive away.

Morgan had no time to reply as Crosshairs had already gotten onto the highway and sped up. There was a moment of awkward silence as they passed rows upon rows of corn. Morgan shifted in the leather seat and winced when it squeaked the way that leather often did. "S-Sorry."

"What're you apologizin' for?" Crosshairs grunted over the radio. "Not like you did anything wrong."

"For…all of this." She waved her right hand around even though she doubted he could see inside himself. "I know you probably never expected it."

"No. I sure as slag did not."

More silence.

"You really are telling the truth, aren't you?" Crosshairs tone was not irritated, infuriated, or any of the cruel emotions he had been exuding the moment he had gotten off the elevator in the dam. Instead his voice had a plaintive edge hidden within the otherwise impassive tenor that he currently spoke in. All bravado was completely gone.

In that moment, Morgan was hit with just how much she had truly missed Crosshairs for the past five years.

"Yeah, I am." She nodded and placed her metal hand on the dashboard, hoping he could sense her conviction. "…thank you for rescuing me from Galvatron, Crosshairs."

"Don't mention it. It probably will never happen again." Crosshairs' speed increased the further they got from Cade Yeager's home. "By the way, what did you mean before you passed out? That I would regret saving you? That something would activate?"

Morgan went stiff as anxiety crawled across her skin like a spider. She had forgotten she had said that. She'd hoped he hadn't heard. "I…I can't talk about it just yet. The last year has been…difficult. I've been dragged around the world by a psychotic alien robot who treated me like a pet with a talent."

"What I'm most concerned about is why Galvatron kept you around for so long. When he was Megatron, he hated humans even more than I do." Crosshairs' contempt snuck back into his voice and Morgan inwardly sighed. There went the chance to bond with him. "Maybe having a body built by you fleshbags softened him."

"I think it was my arm," Morgan admitted. "When he found me in Hong Kong, he said something about how a worthless creature like me didn't deserve it. He would always stare at it like…he wanted it for himself. But Galvatron would just tell me what to do and I'd do it for him."

She brought her legs up and tucked them underneath her chin, staring out the window as the highway rushed by. It was deserted save for them and a lonely ache in her heart panged—she'd been away from civilization for so long that it was strange to be having a normal conversation. Well, as normal as a conversation with a Cybertronian could be.

"I never said whose remains I used for your arm, yeah?" Crosshairs questioned in a low and curious voice like he was contemplating something. "Maybe it was—"

He suddenly broke off mid-sentence and went completely silent. Morgan blinked multiple times in confusion, staring at the Autobot insignia on the steering wheel. "…uh, Crosshairs? Did you activate a mute button or something?"

Crosshairs' voice came through the radio again and this time it sounded hurried and excited, like a wolf going in for the kill. "Plans have changed, lass," he said in a giddy tone as the steering wheel suddenly gave a sharp turn. Morgan was thrown against the door as he made a U-turn that grated on her eardrums due to the shrill screech of his tires. "We're finally getting some action worthy of my talents!"

"Wait, what?"

"There's been a Decepticon attack!" Crosshairs guffawed merrily as he sped back down the highway towards Cade's house and Morgan had to grip the sides of the seat from the velocity of it. "And I'm gonna shoot their glitched afts to pieces!"


	5. V

**Well, er...I have some explaining to do before you get to the chapter.**

**The reason I took so long is a lot of reasons actually. A family friend passed away and I didn't feel like writing. I worked a lot of days and never really got the chance to sit down at my computer. I didn't give five reviews for the last chapter and that kind of disappointed me more than I care to admit. And lastly...I really, really lost my muse.**

**When I first began this story I was writing at the speed of light. I didn't stop and think about things too much and just wrote and wrote and wrote. That was wrong of me. In my excitement to write this story, I forgot how to write emotions and truly delve into the psyche of the characters. I told the story rather than showed. I put way too much information or too much action in one chapter and didn't balance it accordingly. After two years of writing nothing but poetry and the occasional short oneshot, it's seriously difficult for me to write something longer than 3000 words and that has a plot that spans a long time. After re-reading the previous chapters, I got really down and pissed at myself and didn't even want to _think _about writing much less actually _doing _it.**

**So, I'm sorry. The first four chapters were definitely not what they could have been. I may go back and edit them to be more...personal? So the readers can get a better feel of the characters? But I may not. It honestly depends on my mood.**

**This chapter should resolve that problem somewhat. I'm still really rusty at fanfiction and prose that lasts more than one chapter but I swear that I'll get better as I continue writing. Please just bear with me and continue to give me constructive criticism because it undoubtedly urges me to keep on writing.**

**Anyway...please enjoy chapter five. I hope I did Crosshairs justice and I think I'm getting more comfortable with Morgan. I'm not going to bother putting a desired amount of reviews because a) after this many chapters you guys should know and b) it probably doesn't spur people on that much and just makes them think I'm a pretentious review whore.**

Chapter Five

No matter how cordial Crosshairs forced himself to be towards Morgan, he did not trust the femme with even an ounce of his data. The reason he had agreed to go on a drive and converse with her had been so he could interrogate her one-on-one and determine the quickest and cleanest way to dispatch her. When the human had begun to speak to him in such a…heartfelt manner, however, Crosshairs' spark had done something strange. It had begun to burn painfully like someone had shot a plasma blast straight into the center and his processors had sent shocks throughout his entire system that had been difficult to ignore.

Crosshairs didn't like any of it one bit.

He had never cared about or tried to understand the emotions of humans. He didn't _want _to. Yet with Morgan, things were different. It certainly felt like he had some sort of history with her no matter how hard he attempted to deny it. His spark's odd reaction to her apology had proved as such. Crosshairs felt an overwhelming level of excruciating incomprehension that threatened to overload his circuits the more he thought about it. Perhaps Morgan was telling the truth and he had deleted his memories of her? Then by default, wouldn't that make Crosshairs some kind of guardian to her? The mere thought of such a responsibility made him cringe—he was _not _the type of Bot to look after a human before looking after himself.

Not to mention the suspicion that still lay beneath his frame on the subject of Morgan having been with Galvatron for a year. Even with a Cybertronian arm that gave her such an apparent hacking capability, the femme should have been destroyed by Galvatron long ago. Megatron had never been one to keep pets for very long no matter how useful they were and Crosshairs would have bet his right servo that Galvatron was no different. There was something Morgan was not telling the Autobots and Crosshairs was going to get it out of her using any means necessary. She had been much too willing to transcribe her story as it was; one would think that it would be difficult to get any of that out without having some sort of malfunction. Humans were weak creatures. A year with Galvatron would break one.

Unless Morgan was in league with the former Decepticon leader.

That unsettling thought aside, what bothered Crosshairs the most about this entire set of circumstances was Morgan's arm. He hadn't been a medic or ever really tinkered with things. How in Primus's name had Crosshairs assisted her father in building that prosthetic? How had it even been functional attached to a fleshie?

And whose remains had Crosshairs used?

The comm link message from Drift had saved Crosshairs from overthinking everything. Blasting a few Decepticons apart was just what he needed to blow off all the tension that was building up within his joints. He would be able to forget about Morgan for a while and just focus on what he did best: killing Cons.

"Wait, what?!" Morgan's shrill voice snapped Crosshairs back to the present as he sped towards the Yeager farm. "Decepticons? Where?!"

"Drift didn't say." Crosshairs could not force down the sheer delight in his voice as he pulled roughly into the driveway and came to an abrupt halt. A loud "oomph" and the sensation of a soft human body hitting his steering wheel indicated that Morgan hadn't exactly been prepared for the stop. Oh well—it wasn't his fault. "Now get out so I can transform back." He swung the driver's side door open forcefully and felt Morgan's weight disappear as she grudgingly crawled out and stepped onto the pavement. Crosshairs transformed out of his alt mode immediately and brushed himself off, hoping that it would get rid of whatever disgusting organic sentiments Morgan had expressed during the drive. Out of the corner of his optics Crosshairs saw the girl glaring at him in a way that reminded him of a sparkling who had just been told that their frame was too filthy. He just smirked to himself as he ducked back into the garage where the other Autobots were awaiting, eager to beat the slag out of some Cons.

Drift, Bumblebee, and Hound were all bustling around the garage grabbing various weapons and other equipment. Crosshairs watched as Morgan crept over to Cade in the corner and for a brief moment, he was struck with the image of an injured beast attempting to hide away from the world. It was in her slow gait and the way her beady little human eyes darted around frantically, looking for a way to escape. She didn't feel like she belonged here. Even Crosshairs could see that clearly.

_Well, kid, we don't belong here either, _he mused silently to himself as he joined his comrades, pushing all thoughts of Morgan out of his processors as he addressed Drift. "Oi, what are the exact details? You just said there was a Decepticon attack and that we were going to be headin' out to deal with it."

"We just got a call from the human government," Drift answered as he paused in sharpening his blades. "There was a report from one of their bases in…er…"

"Africa," Hound supplied from a few feet away. "Somewhere in Africa. A bunch of Cons suddenly appeared and stole all of the vehicles and a few satellites." He looked up from loading his guns, locking optics with Crosshairs. "There were no casualties and the Decepticons never opened fire. They just grabbed everything and ran for it."

"No casualties?" Crosshairs' processors whirred noisily as confusion surged within them. "Are you sure they were Decepticons?" Cons weren't petty thieves. They thrived on mayhem and murder. They would desire to wreak as much havoc as possible before going under the radar once more.

"Yeah. At least, the agent that called us is sure. They want us to go in and find the Cons and take them down. I'll send you the coordinates now." Hound returned his attention to his artillery and Crosshairs' processors grabbed the information that the heavyset Autobot had sent over.

"But Africa's across the ocean!" Morgan's voice interrupted Crosshairs' downloading process and he glanced over to where she and Cade were standing. He noticed her visibly shift uncomfortably in his eyesight and the level of satisfaction that such a simple gesture created amused him.

"Yeah? So?" Crosshairs shrugged nonchalantly. The coordinates finished up downloading and he glanced over them briefly before organizing them for later.

"How will you get there? Not all of you can transform into helicopters, right?" Morgan glanced at Hound and Bumblebee accordingly.

"We will be transported on one of your air force's planes," Drift answered the girl. "One that is large enough for four Autobots. We must drive to a base here first, however."

"If we had Lockdown's ship then we could get there in no time," Hound grumbled. "But during Hong Kong it got way too damaged for us to repair it with what we have here on this planet, even with the technology we got back."

A sense of distress practically radiated off of Morgan as she looked up at Crosshairs from where she stood. He stiffened when he realized her expression was one of dread—for him? A human worrying for him! It was almost laughable save for the way it made his spark shudder and begin to pulsate with pain like before. "Stop looking at me like that," he hissed, spinning around and beginning to gather up supplies of his own and ignoring the blasted prickly sensations that were crawling under his frame.

The longer Morgan was in his midst the more Crosshairs felt like he had a virus of some sort. His processors kept bringing up that same image he had seen in the dam—the girl with no arm smiling up at him like he was some sort of divine being come to rescue her. He despised the agonizing ache that his spark sent out to every inch of his body whenever he tried to forget it.

_What if I really did delete all my memories of Morgan to protect her?_

The thought raced across his processors unbidden and Crosshairs snarled silently to himself as he shoved it far, far back to a dark corner of his mind where it would never surface again. That would never be true. Crosshairs did _not _build her that arm. He did _not _spend time with her like a glorified babysitter.

_Then why is that image of her saved in your processors? _

Another unwanted thought. Crosshairs was _not _in the mood to have an internal dialogue with what apparently was his miniscule conscience that turned into a war. _Maybe I really do have a virus. That could be the only explanation for whatever my spark has been doing to me. If only we had a medic. Frag it all, why should I even care about any of this? _He clutched a round of bullets in his servo and grit his teeth furiously. For the first time in his life, Crosshairs didn't feel like himself.

"How long do you guys think you're going to be gone?" Cade's question brought Crosshairs out of his mental monologue. "Tessa's going to be coming home this weekend. I'm sure we'll be fine without you guys, but still…"

"A few days," Crosshairs heard himself answering even though he wasn't exactly paying attention to the world around him. His conscience was still tearing at his spark and attempting to insert a wave of guilt into his system for enjoying how he made Morgan edgy. "Maybe a week. It depends on how fast we find the Cons."

"What if Galvatron's with them?" Morgan suddenly asked in a hushed tone. Her human skin looked paler than usual and Crosshairs sensed she wasn't exactly worried about him or the Autobots at the moment. His suspicions flared up as he stared at her from across the garage, eying her body language carefully.

Bumblebee gave a few blips and beeps and flexed his arms in a heroic manner. Crosshairs resisted the urge to roll his optics at the yellow bot. "What Bee means is we'll just frag him in the aft," Crosshairs grunted as he tore his optics away from Morgan and returned his attention to his supplies, loading his guns and slipping them under his coat.

"Do not worry about us." Drift nodded to Morgan as he finished up his preparations. "We will be fine. I doubt Galvatron has joined the Decepticons yet—he may still be in hiding. I once served him when he was Megatron. He…does not take defeats all too well. And being that Crosshairs escaped with you and the spacebridge controller…"

"He won't wanna face his Cons with nothing but a hurt ego," Hound explained. "Since he's in a different body and all. They're just gonna be regular Decepticons that we'll be able to take care of just fine."

"…alright," Morgan sighed, but her face was tight with tension. Crosshairs could practically smell the unease that wafted from her fleshy body.

"Enough talk," Crosshairs interjected. "We're wasting time. Let's get going." He ignored the sensation of Morgan's eyes boring into his back as he transformed into his vehicle mode and revved his engines impatiently. No, she wasn't worried about the Autobots meeting with Galvatron.

She was worried about Galvatron coming to get her.

Though Crosshairs sensed the irritation from the other Autobots at him once again taking command, they transformed anyway. Like him, they were eager to pump some metal into Decepticon spark chambers. Crosshairs turned his wheels in preparation to get moving when a small spot of warmth on the side of his door.

"Be careful." There was a solar storm inside Morgan's brown eyes as she removed her hand from his surface. "They could be planning something. I just found you, Crosshairs…I don't want to lose you again."

A softer Cybertronian would have assured the femme that everything was going to be fine. A softer Cybertronian would have expressed his sparkfelt sentiments and sworn to return. A softer Cybertronian like Optimus Prime would have promised to stay online for the human's sake.

Crosshairs was not a softer Cybertronian.

"I know you're hiding something." His voice was low and quiet. Only Morgan would be able to hear him. "I know that you're not telling us everything. I'm not some bot with a soft spark towards humans, femme." Everything came out too quickly, too venomously. He couldn't filter any of it. He just let it happen. "If I find out that you're lying to us all, I will not hesitate to kill you. The Yeagers are the only humans I will look after because Optimus Prime ordered me to. You are nothing. And I don't associate with things that don't matter."

With that Crosshairs gunned it and raced out of the garage without another word, hoping that she would never look at him with concern ever again.

It was a pathetic desire that both thrilled him and caused his spark to burn in the same strange agony as before.

* * *

Morgan watched the four Autobots drove off as an icy chill ran down her spine like winter itself had settled into her bones. Crosshairs' words haunted her. No, not the cruel words of spite that he had spoken so only she could hear—the ones that had made it clear that the green Autobot despised her even after she had relayed her story.

It was the fact that he suspected she was not telling the whole truth.

And he was right.

"Fuck," Morgan muttered under her breath as she shuddered, rubbing her normal arm with the Cybertronian one in an effort to get rid of the goose bumps that had risen up like a small, fleshy mountain range. "He always was extremely observant when he didn't trust things…"

The scent of exhaust fumes swirled around the garage and threatened to make her dizzy. Morgan coughed into her hand and turned around to face Cade, hoping he didn't notice the way her forehead was sweating so badly that her hair stuck to her skin. "I'm sorry, Mr. Yeager, but I'm exhausted. I think I'll just go to bed right now. It's been…a long day for me."

Even though she'd only been awake for a few hours, spending that time with four Autobots was extremely grueling and arduous on one's stamina.

"Oh, sure. That's fine." Cade nodded, peering at her closely. The fretful gaze reminded Morgan of her father too much. "You okay? You look pale. Maybe you need to eat something again. You _were _passed out for three days after all."

"I'm good. Thank you, though." Morgan gave Cade a small, tense smile as the glacial feeling in her bones spread through her nervous tissue and settled onto her skin. Crosshairs' acidic tone had unsettled her to her very core. He had meant business about killing her. The area where her shoulder and her right arm met began to throb painfully and she hissed quietly, clutching it as if such a simple gesture could stop the ache.

_If only I could tell him the whole truth. But I can't. I just can't. Fuck me. Fuck all of this. Fuck Galvatron and this damned arm of mine._

The pain flared violently as soon as Morgan thought the name. An excruciating fire spread across her body and melted the iciness that had previously coated her skin, delving deep inside of her and encircling her brain. Morgan groaned and doubled over, clutching her head with her human hand as the prosthetic lay limp at her side.

She heard Cade call her name in absolute concern but it sounded like he was shouting through a concrete wall. The pressure in her head increased to the point where Morgan felt like she was going to implode from the inside out. The flames turned into terror as it drove barbs straight into her mind and threatened to overtake her senses as she felt her right arm twitch once; twice; three times.

_Oh, no._

_It _was happening.

Morgan had hoped being away from Galvatron would make it stop. But she should have known better. Just because you got discharged from a hospital after chemotherapy didn't mean you no longer had cancer.

**Kill Cade Yeager.**

The words sliced into her brain like hot knives through butter. The pressure increased and she felt as if someone had her mind, body, and soul in a giant fist. It squeezed and groped at her savagely, paying specific attention to her right arm. She felt the nerves spasm like the mechanical appendage was malfunctioning. Morgan whimpered and managed to glance down at the prosthetic, eyes widening in panic as a tiny, single robotic insect scuttled across the metal surface. It paused and looked up at her with beady red optics before emitting a hiss that would put a horror movie monster to shame.

**Kill Cade Yeager.**

The insect darted across the Cybertronian prosthetic and into the palm of her hand, which had splayed out on its own will. The surface shifted in a way that was similar to a Cybertronian transforming—thin plates of metal rose up and out of the way like a door to reveal a panel of wires and machinery. The bug hopped into the hole and immediately the surface of her palm returned to normal. The arm held itself out like a zombie appendage and she watched uselessly as it stretched towards Cade in a menacing manner.

**Kill. Cade. Yeager.**

"Morgan! Your arm—what's going on?!"

Morgan struggled to look up at the man who was gaping at her prosthetic like a fish gasping for air. Her vision blurred as the pain increased and she cried out, trying desperately to force her arm down. But like every other time this had happened, she had no control over her right arm—it was a weapon of its own accord, and all she could do was sit back helplessly as it reached up for Cade's throat.

"Aw, hell no!" Cade sprinted to the left of the arm and towards one of his work benches, grabbing a wrench and brandishing it in front of him. "I've survived a giant alien robot attack and I am _not _going to let this do me in!"

"I can't stop it," Morgan groaned piteously as her feet dragged forward quicker than she expected, her robotic fingers stretching out like claws. "Please, Cade, get away!"

"There was a fucking bug!" Cade exclaimed as she dashed up to him. He had no time to react as her prosthetic reached out to him ominously. "It was a fucking robot demon bug and it went _into your hand_!"

"I _know_!" Morgan's hand swiped at the wrench in Cade's grasp and knocked it to the garage floor with a metallic clank. She winced when she heard him hiss in pain and attempt to dodge her again, ducking to the side and grabbing another makeshift weapon—a clamp made for wooden planks. Desperation crept up in her voice as hysteria threatened to take over the rest of her senses. "It's a virus and I can't do anything against it…!"

_**KILL CADE YEAGER.**_

The command was the loudest it had been yet. Morgan wanted to scream as the assault on her mind tripled. Barbed wire tipped with toxic flames dragged its way through her brain and her eyesight all but disappeared into blackness from the sheer agony of it all. She felt warm liquid drip from her nostrils and land on her top lip, slipping into her mouth and sending a bitter, coppery taste onto her taste buds. Morgan felt her voice rumble through her vocal cords and knew she said something but the shrill buzz in her ears made all sounds disappear.

The garage floor beneath her feet slipped as she rushed forward with her right arm thrown out, prepared to squeeze the life from Cade Yeager's throat.

It did not happen, however.

One moment Morgan was standing up and running in whatever direction her out-of-control arm knew Cade was in.

The next she was sprawled out on the ground, the cold and harsh surface of the floor pressing against her cheek. A pain even worse than the one in her mind throbbed on the back of her neck, accompanied by the sensation of hot stickiness. Morgan felt the force that had overcome her slowly dissipate like smoke on water like it had never been there in the first place. Her eyes regained some of their functionality and she whimpered again, looking up at the figure of Cade. He stood over her with the clamp, whose metallic surface was flecked with blood.

"It was your idea," he murmured apologetically as he knelt down, eyes brimming with worry. It was that damn fatherly gaze again. Morgan both hated and adored it simultaneously. "I'm sorry, Morgan. Are you—"

Whatever Cade had been about to say vanished in a bout of silence. Morgan's eyes fluttered shut and she felt her consciousness slipping away into sweet, sweet darkness.

The last thing that flashed through her mind was the faceplate of Galvatron. Blood red optics glowered at her murderously and his mouth plate morphed into a beastlike snarl. It was something that a lost little girl would see in the woods before getting devoured by the monster that everyone warned her about. Morgan knew that she should have felt petrified at the image but on the contrary, all she felt was peace.

All she wanted to do was sleep.

Because when Morgan slept, Galvatron couldn't control her arm the way he had for the past year.


	6. VI

_**Edit: I noticed that fanfiction was showing that I never uploaded this chapter one moment and then the next it was? So I'm replacing it in hopes that it will fix itself. Idk what happened. Nothing has been changed except for this short little notice.**_

**Warning: this chapter is extremely long. I got a little sidetracked and kind of just kept writing. But in my defense, I start college on Monday (August 25) and since I don't know when I'll be able to update, I figured that a long chapter would be fine.**

**I'm introducing some new characters! A couple whom I believe you guys will be quite pleased about and another OC of mine who I hope you'll like.**

**I hope that this chapter isn't too long winded and no one gets bored of it...the excessive dialogue was necessary to proceed with the story and plot. The next chapter, whenever I get around to it, will be full of action and lots of asskicking. **

**Please, please, _please _leave a review for this one because it took a long time to write and I'm really proud of the fact that I made it so long. I want to know what you guys think of the new developments and if I'm doing all the characters justice, as well as making it a story that is actually fun to read. I'm worried that I may be getting in over my head at some moments.**

**And if anything was confusing, let me know and I'll try to clear it up as best I can in the next chapter! Thanks! Wish me luck for my first day of college next week because I can already feel the panic attacks... x_x**

Chapter Six

"…_hairs!"_

Crosshairs' comm link was full of static and interference as Cade Yeager's voice fizzled through weakly. He was barely discernable over the fuzzy connection, like someone was blocking the transmission.

"_Something…wrong with…she attacked…arm…weird-ass bug…I don't…Morgan needs…please…Crosshairs…help…!"_

Cade's broadcast dissolved completely in a moment, leaving nothing but white noise on Crosshairs' end. He stayed quiet and waited a minute, wondering if the others had gotten the same message. When no one contacted him or made a sudden 180 to turn around, Crosshairs accelerated ever so slightly and continued to drive ahead of the three Autobots, snorting to himself.

_Sorry, Cade. Whatever's wrong with that femme, I'm not about to concern myself with her. I've got better things to do._

He did find it a bit strange, however. Cade's equipment was top of the line. His transmission should have come through loud and clear on Crosshairs' comm link. They were barely twenty miles away from the farm. A small thread of suspicion weaved its way into Crosshairs' mind, sending his thoughts into overdrive. Was it some kind of trap set by Decepticons? No, that was out of the question—they wouldn't bother with a human.

_Maybe…Morgan hacked into his communication systems. _

He scoffed at the notion. As much as he distrusted her, Crosshairs had doubts that she would willingly do something to Cade just yet. Morgan wasn't the type of human to attack immediately if attack at all. She seemed much too frail. She would most likely wait until the very last second, and then Morgan would—

"Why the bloody hell am I thinking about this so much?!" Crosshairs swore to himself, nearly swerving off the road as anger surged within his energon at his own stupidity. He couldn't remember the last time something had affected him so horribly. "Primus, I can't let this affect me! She's just a human with a metal arm and a talent for lying!"

His outburst caught the attention of his fellow Autobots, and Drift closed in the already limited gap between the two of them. "What is wrong, Crosshairs?"

"Nothing!" Crosshairs snarled, speeding up again so the ex-Con wasn't directly on his aft. For a seasoned warrior, Drift didn't know the first thing about personal space. "Now shut up and drive faster! We need to get to the human base immediately so we can leave." All he wanted to do was tear apart some Decepticons and bathe in their energon. That would get his processors to stop revolving around thoughts Morgan. He could imagine it now—the pained screams of Cons begging for their pathetic lives as he shot round after round into their slimy spark chambers. His systems were already shivering with anticipation and he resisted the urge to change into his helicopter form and fly off to the coordinates on his own.

The rest of the three hour drive was fairly quiet and uneventful. Bumblebee would play music occasionally and sometimes Hound would point out an Earth animal here and there but other than that, blessed silence. There were no more thoughts about Morgan and her Pit-spawned arm ricocheting around in Crosshairs' processors and when the merest hint that one was about to appear, he destroyed it before it could form properly. The next week or so would be about Decepticons only—no Morgan and no possible past he may share with the human girl.

When the four Autobots arrived at the air force base that would be transporting them across the ocean to Africa, there was a man standing in front of a gate in the middle of two guard towers. A soldier could be seen through the windows of each tower, both cradling guns in their arms. The desire to transform and smack the man out of the way and then do something similar to the soldiers just to frighten them was nearly overwhelming, but Crosshairs fought it off and instead forced himself to be as amiable as his programming would allow him to.

"Oi," he greeted gruffly as he drove up to the gate, hoping that the fact that a car was speaking would frighten the little man somewhat. "We're the Autobots."

"I know who you are," the man replied pleasantly. "I'm a tad disappointed you don't remember me, Crosshairs. We spoke before."

Crosshairs studied the man closely. He looked like a regular human—very plain, with brown hair and brown eyes, a face that wasn't exactly memorable…in a way, he reminded Crosshairs of Morgan. Minus the Cybertronian arm and the burn scars on her face, of course. _Frag, here I am thinking about the damned femme again, _Crosshairs berated himself mentally as he continued to examine the human of him told him to just give up and allow the thoughts to happen, but the more stubborn half of his psyche continued to fire away at the unwanted thoughts like they were Decepticons.

"You're the agent who told us of the robberies!" the green Autobot exclaimed as realization struck him. It was the man's voice he recognized; it had been the voice that had started this whole mess. Of course it was him—he was probably in charge of all the Autobot communications for the human government.

The man nodded and gave Crosshairs a smile and immediately a strange sense of unease drifted through his spark. He couldn't put a servo on it, but there was something about this man that reminded Crosshairs of…Morgan. It wasn't just the unremarkable plainness the two shared. There was something about the way the man had smiled, like he knew a secret—it was akin to the way Morgan had spoken, like she hadn't been telling the entire truth.

"My name is Jay. I'm head of the intelligence group that gives the Autobots their missions. I'll be showing you to the air craft that will be taking you to the destination. Follow me, if you please." The gate opened with a loud buzzing sound and Jay walked through onto the blacktop that led to the large air hangar behind them. "Oh, and you may transform if you like. The soldiers here know of who and what you are. I'm sure you would prefer that over your alt forms."

They didn't need to be told twice. Without waiting another moment the four Autobots quickly transformed into their true Cybertronian modes and followed Jay through the gates. Crosshairs eyed the two soldiers on either side warily and glowered at them with narrow optics. A thin wave of pleasure ran through him when the one on the left stiffened and swallowed, eyes flickering away to look at anything other than the green paratrooper.

_Fleshies scare so easily! _Crosshairs thought gleefully to himself, smirking in a self-congratulatory manner. Out of the corner of his optics he noticed Bumblebee and Hound giving the soldiers cheerful waves and he grunted in disappointment, shaking his helm. _"Knock it off. We're not here to be friendly."_ He sent the message to their comm links, making sure it was full of irritation and exasperation.

"_Well, sorry for being polite!" _Hound grumbled back, crossing his arms. _"They're not our enemies anymore, Crosshairs. You could at least try to be more civil."_

"_I'll be civil when they bring our comrades back from the Well of Allsparks and give us a way to get off this Primus-forsaken planet," _Crosshairs snarled defensively. _"Just because Prime ordered us to protect the Yeagers doesn't mean we have to act like all other humans are our friends, you slagheap." _

Hound didn't answer but just glared heatedly at Crosshairs from behind. Bumblebee vented sadly, shoulders slumped. Drift glanced at the three of them in confusion but said not a word as they all followed the man across the blacktop. The air base was littered with jets and planes parked on the runways here and there, where humans were darting around busily like rodents scurrying away. The air became thick with tension as the Autobots passed the humans—Crosshairs could literally feel the pressure of their stares pushing down on his frame like gravity was at their beck and call. He held his helm high and sauntered behind Jay, moving his coat out of the way somewhat to show the large guns strapped to the insides. There was just something extremely satisfying about showing his weapons off to the fleshbags.

When they entered the hangar, Crosshairs' jaw nearly dropped at what was inside.

It was the separate part of Lockdown's ship that the Autobots had stolen and then crashed in Hong Kong. The part that had housed the legendary Dinobot warriors that Optimus had rallied to fight alongside the Autobots. The spacecraft was no longer broken down and smashed, however; it gleamed like it had just been assembled and there were no missing pieces or deep gouges in the ship's hide. A dozen or so humans were busy shuffling around it, looking like they were checking it over. Crosshairs heard the quiet gasps of astonishment from his comrades behind him, but he just stared silently at the sight before him.

_It's been so close the entire time. We could have left this pathetic planet ages ago._

Red-hot anger swelled up from within Crosshairs' chassis. For a year now they'd been pawns of the humans that had once hunted them, taking orders and doing their dirty work. Not only had they been harboring Cybertronian technology secretly, but they had also managed to repair the ship and keep it from the Autobots?

_This has gone too far._

Crosshairs yanked out two of his guns and aimed one at Jay's head, the other into the mass of humans. "Tell me why I shouldn't blast you all apart this instant," he boomed with rage as his fury burned within him like a supernova getting ready to explode. There had just been too many surprises in the past few days and this was the one to finally make him snap. "Tell me why the ship is completely repaired when we were told that the damage had been too much for your primitive technology! Tell me why you _humans _have it when it rightfully belongs to _us_!"

His violent uproar echoed off of the hangar's walls and everyone in the building froze where they stood, staring at the four Autobots. No one said anything—not even Drift, Hound, or Bumblebee. Crosshairs' servos twitched on the triggers eagerly and he gave a low growl. "Well?" he snarled, optics narrowed at the man called Jay.

"Now, now, Crosshairs," Jay responded calmly, holding his hands up as if to pacify the Cybertronian before him. It pissed Crosshairs off even more. How dare this fleshie act so high and mighty when Crosshairs could grab him and literally tear him in half?! "No need to be hasty." He gestured to the ship behind him and gave an easy smile, nodding to the gun pointed directly at him. "Put the weapon down and we can discuss this in a sensible manner." Jay's brown eyes locked with Crosshairs' optics with a challenge, as if to say, "Prove to us that you're not the monsters Cemetery Wind painted you to be."

"Crosshairs, do what the human says," Drift cut in, placing a servo on Crosshairs' shoulder. Crosshairs shrugged him off vehemently and turned his helm to glare at the triple changer. Drift's optics bore into his and Crosshairs saw a turbulent mixture of emotions in them. Like him, Drift was also angry at this revelation—that much was clear in the harried expression on his faceplate. Looking past the indigo Cybertronian to Bumblebee and Hound, Crosshairs saw that the two were mirroring similar expressions. "We will get nowhere with you shooting them."

As much as he was loath to admit it, Drift was correct.

Besides, he could always shoot them _after _he found out why they'd been keeping the ship a secret.

Groaning in frustration, Crosshairs shoved his guns back to where they belonged underneath his trench coat and glowered down at Jay. "Thank you," the human nodded to Drift and the snubbing action was like rubbing the rough side of sandpaper across Crosshairs' smooth finish. He bristled heatedly but otherwise said nothing, keeping on servo near his guns just because.

"First off, I'll have you all know that my men and I truly wanted to tell you about this," Jay began in an overly friendly tone that sickened Crosshairs to the very core. "However, we swore to keep it a secret. After the Hong Kong incident, our best mechanics came together to repair the ship. Regrettably, even with the information from KSI it still took over a year."

"It's fully repaired now, though?" Hound cut in in a boisterous tone, glancing at the ship hopefully.

"…yes," Jay answered slowly, turning towards the spacecraft. "With some…exceptions."

"What kind of exceptions?" Crosshairs grunted, not in the mood for enigmatic responses.

"We believe it no longer has the capability to leave Earth's atmosphere," the man admitted, his previous straightforward and amicable tone slipping into one that was almost apologetic enough for Crosshairs to believe it. Almost, but not quite. "We just didn't have the type of equipment to repair that much of it. But it can fly much faster than any human-built machine!"

Well. That just put a damper on things.

"It can't…travel in space." Crosshairs' voice was a deadbeat, hiding the temper that was already growing once again inside of him. "You have _got _to be joking. And I don't like jokes all that much, fleshbag."

"It can only travel on this planet now is what you are telling us," Drift said, walking closer to the ship. The humans around it scampered and darted away like pathetic, terrified insects. "It is no longer a _space_ship."

"Er…yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you." The barest hint of unease crept into Jay's otherwise composed voice as Crosshairs and the other Autobots followed Drift to the ship. "We offer our deepest and most sincere apologies. Perhaps after you apprehend the Decepticons that attacked our base, you may take it back and make it fully functional once more?"

Crosshairs didn't bother answering as he inspected the ship's restored hide, running a servo along the smooth surface until he found the spot that would open up the hatch. Pounding it with a fist, the door fell open with a _clank _onto the cement floor and Crosshairs stepped up onto the long plank and inside of the ship. The interior was good-as-new and he immediately went to the control center, powering the ship on without a second thought.

The ship rumbled to life as energy surged within its core. Multicolored lights flickered on and the navigational screen flashed into being, signaling that the ship was all ready for takeoff. Crosshairs placed himself in the captain's seat and grabbed hold of the steering levers, smirking.

"Well, boys, what say you we go and take care of some Cons?"

Yes, the humans had kept the ship a secret.

Yes, Crosshairs wanted nothing more than to kill every single one of them.

Yes, he was utterly and absolutely livid that the ship could no longer be called a spaceship.

But the fact remained that there were still Decepticons out there waiting to be destroyed by him and the rest of the Autobots. And that simple detail made Crosshairs' energon boil with sheer delight and his spark pulsate fervently as he relished thinking about all the ways he was going to kill the Cons.

"You're not going to kill them?" Bee asked with wide optics as he and the other two Autobots walked into the control room, the radio broadcasts he was using to speak meshed together hurriedly.

"Nah, not yet," Crosshairs answered with a nonchalant shrug. "There's no fun in killin' fleshies who can't put up a fight when compared to the action that Decepticons will give us, eh?"

"You have a point," Drift admitted with a nod, looking out the window where the humans were all moving things out of the way for the ship. A metallic sound from above indicated the ceiling opening up to make way for the ship. "You know how to fly this thing, yes?"

"He'll do a helluva lot better than I did," Hound grunted as Crosshairs closed the hatch to the ship and booted the systems up. The agent named Jay stared at the Autobots from outside the ship and out of the corner of his optics, Crosshairs could have sworn he saw the human leer. It was gone in a flash, however, and Crosshairs figured he had just imagined it.

"Someone plug the coordinates into the navigational systems," Crosshairs ordered as the engines got louder and louder. Immediately they popped up on the screen in front of him and Crosshairs placed his servo on the holographic display, switching everything to the proper settings.

It was odd. He felt more tranquil in this ship than he had all his years on Earth. And Crosshairs wasn't known for feeling such emotions.

"Let's get this thing airborne and get the frag away from here!"

The ship groaned as Crosshairs pushed the levers forward. It slowly rose upwards a few feet as he carefully maneuvered it higher and out of the ceiling into the arid Texan air. Once completely clear of the hangar, Crosshairs turned on autopilot and leaned back in the chair, propping his legs up and grinning. "It's so much nicer when you're not the one flying."

The ship gained speed as it flew through the sky. Crosshairs estimated that they would arrive at the destination in about a day, give or take. Exhilaration ran through his systems as his servos twitched, eager to at last have some proper action after a year of playing babysitter. Something nudged at him from the back of his processors, however, and Crosshairs' grin turned into a frown.

_What was Cade trying to tell me earlier?_

Well, it didn't matter now. Action worthy of a battle-hardened mech like him was finally about to happen.

Crosshairs wasn't about to let a little curiosity ruin it for him.

* * *

Voices.

Morgan heard voices.

Her body throbbed with a dull, aching pain that reached from the tips of her fingers to the very marrow of her bones and focused on the back of her neck. Slowly, Morgan forced herself to open her eyes and leave the pleasantries of the darkness that she had previously been in. Once again, she found herself in the bedroom of Cade's daughter, only this time she was not alone. Cade stood with his back to the bed and another man was in front of him, eyes trained on Morgan. He was bald with large, thick glasses and wore a deluxe tailored suit. The haughty expression on his face coupled with the gaudy outfit just screamed "rich and too smart for his own good."

"Robo-chick is up," he nudged Cade's shoulder and the inventor spun around, face full of relief as Morgan forced herself to sit upwards.

"Oh thank God. I thought I was going to have to call a hospital or something. I think I hit you way too hard." Cade sighed guiltily. "Sorry. My bad."

Morgan felt her face burn like someone was staring at her. She glanced over at the unknown man and indeed, his eyes were trained right on her scars. She glowered back at him and pushed the covers off of her, ignoring the soreness that permeated every inch of her body as she slid off the bed. When the man's eyes went from her face to her arm, Morgan quickly shoved the limb behind her back and focused her attention on Cade. "How long was I out?"

"Most of the night. It's eight in the morning now," Cade answered and pushed the arrogant-looking man forward. "I was seriously worried though, so I called Joshua over in case I needed his help."

"Hey, how ya doing?" The man greeted lazily, giving Morgan a bright grin that further supported the egotism that literally oozed from his pores. "The name's Joshua Joyce. Former head of KSI, now reduced to nothing more than a mere inventor once again. But hey! Considering the shitstorm I kind of unleashed, I consider that a better alternative compared to, say…jail!"

"KSI?" Morgan ignored the conceited laughter from Joshua Joyce and gave Cade a hard look. Standing before her was the man whose actions were the very reason she was in the bedroom right now. "The company that created Transformium? The company that made Galvatron?" She grit her teeth and added in a low, irate tone, "Who, may I add, kept me prisoner for a year?"

"Yep. That's the one," Cade nodded uncomfortably. "But don't worry. He's a good dude now. And he's been helping me out a lot for the past year to make up for what he did. I figured he might have an idea about your…arm."

"Could I take a look at it?" Joshua asked excitedly as he leaned forward, looking like a boy on Christmas morning opening his presents. "I've never seen anything like it!"

"Hell no!" Morgan snapped, grabbing her arm and clutching it protectively as she backed away from the leering baldy. "I'm not some science experiment! Stay the fuck away from me!"

It was then, however, that she remembered just why she'd been passed out. Panic rose within her chest and she sucked in a harsh breath, half-expecting to see a robotic bug scampering across the metal surface of her right arm. There was nothing but the smooth, cold exterior. "Oh, God," she groaned, gripping her head and hoping that there would be no cruel voice sending knives of agony into her brain at any moment. "It happened, didn't it? The…virus…"

_No sense in hiding it now. I can't really—not after what I did…_

"Virus?" Cade narrowed his eyes inquisitively. "Yeah, you said that before I knocked you out. But what do you mean by a virus? It made your arm freak out and try to kill me?"

"Whoa, you didn't tell me that!" Joshua exclaimed, holding his hands up and glancing at Morgan like she was a convicted murderer. "You just said her prosthetic was having issues!"

"Well, it's not like I'm gonna tell you what actually happened over the phone! My transmission to Crosshairs never went through so I think someone's been hacking into our systems. I didn't want to risk anyone finding out about Morgan."

_Crosshairs? You tried to contact him and it didn't go through? Oh, shit…_

She couldn't dwell on that for very long, however. Not when other matters were at hand.

"Ahem!" Morgan cleared her throat loudly as an insulting stab of annoyance went through her heart. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about me like I wasn't here. Just…" she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, pushing past the two men and into the bedroom's doorway. "I'll tell you, okay? I'll tell you what I didn't tell the Autobots. I'd rather do it in the garage, though, just in case I…"

She trailed off, hoping Cade would catch her drift. When he merely gave her a supportive nod, she turned around and made her way down the hallway and to the kitchen, not waiting for either man to follow her. Once in the garage—which sent little dings of unease through her as she remembered the way her arm had reached out for Cade's throat like a mindless zombie—Morgan grabbed one of the flimsy metal chairs and sat down. Cade and Joshua followed suit and she had to swallow back the lump of anxiety that threatened to spew all over the garage floor.

"So. Um." Morgan took a deep breath and mindlessly tapped her finger against her metal elbow, struggling to find the proper words as she focused on Cade. "I'm sure you told this guy," she hooked an incriminating thumb at Joshua Joyce, "that my arm is Cybertronian and that I've spent the last year with one of his man-made Transformers who is actually Megatron reincarnated."

"Actually, no." Baldy blinked in confusion and turned to Cade with a criticizing glare. "He's told me next to nothing."

"Oh. Well." _I _really _don't want to relay everything again. It was hard enough the first time. _"All you need to know is that I'm a hacker and my arm has a lot to do with it because it's a Cybertronian prosthetic and Galvatron thought I was going to be useful so he basically lugged me around the planet for the last year stealing various Cybertronian relics." The words rushed out like verbal diarrhea and Morgan wasted no time using small details.

"One of them being this," Cade added, pointing behind them at the work bench where the space bridge controller lay still on the surface. The electric-blue screen still shone with various Cybertronian symbols that floated idly across, like they were swimming in a leisure pool. "I guess it's basically a teleporter, but it's not working as of now. I've been trying to figure a way to fix it, but now with the Autobots on a mission…I don't think I'll have much luck."

"Oooh, let me get my hands on it! I can get it up and running," Joshua smirked as pride edged his tones. Morgan glowered at the bespectacled bald man and he visibly flinched, now giving her a nervous grin. "Er, I just mean that because I worked with their anatomy for a couple years, so I…uh…yeah, I'll shut up now. Continue, Robo-chick."

While Morgan's eye twitched at the offensive nickname, she wasn't about to let it get to her just yet. Though she really did want to wrap her right hand around his throat and squeeze just to see what his nerdy face looked like when it was deprived of air.

"Megatron, while in the KSI laboratories, infected Galvatron with what essentially is a computer virus. Only to Cybertronians, it's basically a disease," Morgan explained in as calm and cordial a voice that she could muster. "It's how Megatron transferred his consciousness to the body and became Galvatron. Trust me; he was more than eager to let me know about that—he was pretty damn pleased with himself. His arrogance reminds me of a certain ex-CEO I've just met," she stared pointedly at Joshua Joyce, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I was in Hong Kong when the big battle between the Transformium Decepticons, the Autobots, and Lockdown," Morgan continued, resisting the urge to grin a bit herself. "I was doing a hacking job. Galvatron…found me, somehow. He threatened to kill me unless I helped him. I had no other choice. But to ensure that I would most definitely help him, he…put a virus into my arm."

"Ew," Joshua shuddered, looking disgusted. Cade shot him a look that hissed, "Don't be rude" and he went quiet, still looking uncomfortable.

Morgan ignored the interruption as best she could and held the prosthetic up to accentuate her point, wiggling the metallic digits. "Since it's Cybertronian but the rest of me is organic, the virus reacted…differently. I can no longer control my arm when it's activated and Galvatron can give me commands through the virus that I really can't deny. Last night…one of them was to kill you, Cade."

Her voice was thick with remorse as the confession dragged off her tongue like sludge. "I tried to fight it. I don't want to kill anyone; especially you, Cade. You've been so kind to me. But Galvatron, he…he…" Morgan's shoulders slumped and she shook her head, biting the insides of her cheeks so hard she tasted blood. "When Crosshairs got me out of the dam, Galvatron tried to activate the virus then. He wanted me to hack into Crosshairs' processors. I forced myself to pass out before I could, though. When I'm unconscious, the virus doesn't work because my brain isn't sending commands to my arm. That's why I had you knock me out, Cade."

"Well shit," Joshua whistled, looking fairly impressed as he looked her up and down, as if inspecting a new tool. "No offense to you, Robo-chick, but that's pretty damn ingenious of Galvatron. If I could harness that sort of technology…"

Morgan's resentment towards the bald man peaked and she leaned forward, making a menacing fist with her right hand. Her cheeks burned hotly with indignation under his indifferent gaze and she felt outrage building up deep within her like a volcano about to erupt. "I have a _name," _she spat, wanting nothing more than to punch him so hard that a fist-sized bruise was etched into his skin for months. "It's Morgan Cooper, you fucking asshole! I have a metal arm, yeah, but I'm not a _robot! _Just like the Autobots you experimented on—they have sparks, souls! They're living beings! Because of you, Megatron has a body almost incapable of being destroyed! Because of you, my arm isn't my own anymore! So I will _not _just sit here and let you ridicule me just because your brain is a bit smarter than the average human's!"

Silence greeted her infuriated outburst as both Cade and Joshua gaped at Morgan like they'd never seen a woman angry before in their lives.

It just pissed her off even more.

Morgan rose from her seat and stomped over to the space bridge operator, smacking her metal hand on the work bench so hard that the clang reverberated off of the garage's walls. "And this?!" she snarled, pointing to the piece of Cybertronian technology with an accusing finger. She'd never felt such wrath in her life; not when her father lost his job, not when he passed away, not even when Crosshairs up and disappeared. "If humans get ahold of this technology, do you know what will happen? Wars, that's what! Wars worse than the shit we see nowadays! The ability to appear wherever you want within a few seconds, fully prepared to attack?"

"H-hey, calm down!" Joshua stammered, going pale. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No, I will _not _calm down!" she roared. She had never known she could get this angry. It was…exhilarating. It felt good. "I've been pushed around for the last year by a warmonger from outer space. I am twenty fucking years old and I have had it with keeping my mouth shut. I won't let you or anyone else experiment on Cybertronian relics anymore! I'll—"

_**Child, calm yourself.**_

Morgan cut herself off quicker than a hot blade through ice. She looked down and next to the controller was a long, rectangular steel container that she swore had not been there a moment before.

"…what's this?" she asked Cade, thinking that perhaps the strange and ominous that had come from the area was just in her head.

"What's what?" he swallowed tensely as he got up and went to her side, as if uncertain if it was proper to speak with her. When Morgan gestured to the strange container, he peered over her shoulder. "Oh, that. It was with some energon containers that the Autobots took from the dam. I haven't been able to open it though, and none of their scans could pick up anything. I think it's just a hunk of metal. What's it doing here though? I had it somewhere else yesterday…"

_**Release me. **_

There it was again. The voice. It was neither male nor female yet it reverberated in Morgan's mind with a power that she could only describe as ethereal.

The world around Morgan came to a halt as she reached for the strange object with her right hand. As soon as the two metals made contact, a bright blue light erupted from the container. Morgan yelped as a shock went through her prosthetic and all the way through her heart, numbing her body for a few seconds. The silver surface of the container slowly came apart in a way similar to when her palm when the virus had disappeared back into her arm. It dissolved like water, running down her metal fingers and dripping onto the floor where it vanished completely, until a rough and twisted sliver of what looked like burnt iron lay within her grasp. The electric-blue light came from strange inscriptions on the surface, which looked practically the same as…

…the Cybertronian characters on the space bridge operator.

"What the fuck—"

Whatever Joshua had been about to say was interrupted by the blue light being emitted from the sliver brightening to the point where it was blinding. Morgan squeezed her eyes shut but to no avail—it pierced through her eyelids and raced through her corneas, embedding itself into her brain. The numbness ebbed and flowed as she felt something akin to electricity but not exactly that raced through her very veins. The potent sensation focused mainly on her right arm and Morgan felt a presence enter her mind, just like whenever Galvatron would activate the virus. Only this presence did not terrify and abuse her.

It was a soothing, gentle touch.

_**You have a destiny far greater than you could have ever imagined, Morgan Cooper.**_

The voice boomed robustly through her mind and the light died down at last, though the peculiar electrifying sensation remained. Morgan opened her eyes carefully to see that in the palm of her hand the sliver was gone, but in its place was a myriad of strange symbols etched into the metal that glowed bright blue and white. The same ones that had decorated the sliver and shared a commonality with the ones on the space bridge operator.

"What just happened?" Cade's voice cut through the stunned silence of the three humans.

"I…don't know," Morgan mumbled, shaking her head. She felt dizzy, but also felt like she could run three marathons in ten minutes. Everything was like a jigsaw puzzle inside of her; jumbled and tossed together in a careless manner.

_**Take the space bridge operator in your right hand, child. **_

Morgan had the bulky Cybertronian artifact in her hand before she realized what she was doing. The brightness intensified once more and the light enveloped the object in a physical cloak and a crackling sound suddenly issued from the object. Morgan jumped back as a beam of energy was thrown from the space bridge operator onto the garage floor, where it grew into a large…portal. That was the only word to describe the white-blue shivering mass of plasma-like energy before her.

A portal that beckoned to Morgan in a way she knew she shouldn't obey, but she couldn't resist it.

_**The Autobots will need your assistance, young one. Go to them. I shall be with you. **_

"Morgan, what the hell are you doing?! Get away from it!"

Morgan turned her head to see Cade staring at her with wide, terrified eyes as she walked towards the portal. There it was again—that fatherly expression that Morgan both disliked and adored at the same time.

_Who are you? _Morgan asked the voice in her head as she paused in front of the portal. The energy crackled around her like a playful dog, causing the hairs on her arms to rise up and her already chaotic mass of brown hair to grow even frizzier. _I know I can trust you. I can feel it in my soul. But who are you? _

_**I am the Allspark. Or what remains of it. I have been asleep for a long time and you have awoken me. You, who are both organic and Cybertronian.**_

The Allspark. Where had Morgan heard that term before?

She couldn't remember. But that didn't matter. All her anger had evaporated like dew on a scorching summer's day, replaced with nothing but serenity.

"I'll be fine, Cade." Morgan gave him a small smile as she stepped an inch closer, feeling the portal's energy wrap around her in a docile embrace. "Just wait for me to get back. I've got some business to take care of."

Morgan stepped into the portal without another word and felt herself falling through the very fabric of the universe itself.

* * *

Six Earth hours after takeoff and Crosshairs was landing the ship in the Sahara Desert of the continent known as Africa.

He thanked Primus that it hadn't taken any longer because he was fairly certain that one more "are we there yet" comment from Hound would have short-circuited his processors and "accidentally" crashed the aircraft.

"It is very…yellow," Drift commented as Crosshairs lowered the ship through the sky down towards the ground. Indeed, one could see nothing but sand upon sand for miles, save for the small patch of cement in the middle of the desert that was the US military base. A road wound through the dunes and connected the base to somewhere only Primus knew—it was a lonely, desolate area that even Crosshairs felt uncomfortable about. Mainly due to the lack of familiar helicopters and military vehicles that were common on bases such as this. The hodgepodge of garages and buildings all clumped tightly together amongst the concrete and there was no sign of life anywhere they looked.

"They must have evacuated after the attack," Hound remarked as he got his ammunition ready, loading it into his guns. "Bee, your scans are the best among us—check for any human heat sigs, will ya?"

The yellow scout gave a nod and focused his attention on the base as Crosshairs cautiously landed the ship, grimacing when a loud thud vibrated through the air as soon as it made contact with the sand. Thankfully it wasn't sandstorm season, or else the landing would have been a lot messier. _Not that I'll ever admit that I'm not the best pilot in the galaxy, _Crosshairs grumbled mentally as he pushed the landing brakes into gear. _Autopilot can only go so far._

"Nothing," Bumblebee's radio broadcasted after a minute or so. He glanced over at Crosshairs and the green Autobot was startled to see the expectant look in the young bot's optics. It was something he had never predicted to witness.

_By Primus, is he actually waiting for my orders? Well, frag me a new aft!_

"Let's move out!" Crosshairs grunted sternly as he pretended like the action hadn't surprised him, standing up from the pilot's seat opening the ship's hatch. "Everyone stay in a close formation in case there are some Cons waitin' to sneak up on us. Shoot anything that seems suspicious." When the three Autobots all nodded in assent and began to leave the ship, Crosshairs blinked his optics rapidly in shock.

"No one's gonna yell at me for taking charge and 'pretending' to be Prime?" he half-joked, half-inquired to no one in particular. Drift turned his head and gave an impassive shrug.

"It does not matter who orders us," the ex-Con stated simply. "As long as we are fighting together against a common enemy, we will be willing to obey. And as long as you do not get ahead of yourself, Crosshairs, then I for one shall not retaliate against you." The warning was thinly veiled, but didn't bother Crosshairs in the least.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he rolled his optics as adrenaline pumped through his energon. It was silent in the desert when they excited the ship, save for the soft whine of wind that battered against the medal hide. The sun was so blistering that even his Cybertronian exterior heated up immediately as soon as he got outside, forcing him to activate his cooling systems so nothing would overheat and compromise his performance. Crosshairs took the back as Hound and Drift spread out across the front, Bumblebee sneaking in the middle. It had been a long, long time since the four of them had taken a mission that required teamwork.

Not since Optimus's return and Hong Kong, actually. It was strange. Millennia of war had instilled some sort of unspoken connection between the Autobots. Crosshairs could feel the anticipation that radiated from his comrades' sparks as the crept closer to the base; if Decepticons did appear and attack, he knew that somehow the four of them would work together without even having to give orders.

_But where are the Pit-spawned fraggers anyway? _

If there had been tracks from the attack, the wind had forced the sand over them in the last day. Crosshairs' scans picked up absolutely no sign of Cybertronian energon signatures, and when he zoomed in on the base, everything looked completely normal. Save for the lack of military vehicles and soldiers, of course.

"It doesn't even look like this base has been in operation for some time," Crosshairs muttered to himself as he paused, watching his peds sink into the sand quickly. A little too quickly to be comfortable for Crosshairs, but he'd never truly been in this type of terrain on Earth, so perhaps that was the norm. "If there was an attack, even if all the Decepticons did was steal something, there should be _some _sign of a scuffle—"

The ground beneath the four Autobots began to tremble in a way that was not welcoming.

It was then that Crosshairs came to the realization that in all likelihood, there had been no attack; this base was currently out of commission; and that the Autobots had been playing into someone's' servos right from the start.

"Oh, frag."

The sand swirled around Crosshairs' peds like a whirlpool, sucking him down with a sharp force. A loud curse to his right alerted him and he swung his helm around to see Hound in a similar position, his wide girth quickly being pulled into the sand like he was nothing more than a toy. A quick glance showed that Drift and Bumblebee were currently in the same boat, and all three struggled to pull themselves out. Crosshairs shuddered as he felt nothing but the gritty texture of the sand grate across his frame and the small particles slipped into the crevices of his form, filling every nook up and sending error warnings to all of his systems. It was a sensation that he was unlikely to forget for a long time.

"_Fuck,_" Crosshairs uttered the offensive Earth colloquialism furiously as the sand sucked him further down so that his top half was out in the open. He could feel nothing but the grainy consistency all around him and nothing else—it was never ending. Something unfamiliar rose up in his spark, darting all around and racing in circles. Panic?

"What the slag is this?!" Hound barked as he continued to struggle in the sandy whirlpool, only one arm free. Either it was an accident or the fool thought it would somehow help, because suddenly his gun was shooting off a round every second, the earsplitting bangs practically disappearing into the wide expanse of desert as bullet shells dropped from above and straight into the trap.

"Stop moving around so much, you'll get sucked down quicker!" Crosshairs snarled as he forced himself to remain calm, going still. The rapid pull slowed, but not by much, and he swore under his breath.

"Could we transform to get out?" Drift suggested and the ex-Con's tone was anything but tranquil as he grabbed at the sand with his servos only to have it sift through.

Just as Drift said it, Crosshairs' systems blared a warning message through his processors:

**STASIS IMMINENT. SYSTEMS GOING DOWN. INTERFERENCE. INTERFERENCE. ALL SYSTEMS SHUTTING DOWN.**

There was too much sand in his framework. It was causing his systems to malfunction. His sight turned black and white, the images shaking fuzzily before him. He felt like one of Cade's old television sets that just needed to be thrown away; useless.

"Oh, you've _got _to be shittin' me," Crosshairs groaned as he felt the tell-tale drowsiness of a forced stasis. He wasn't even angry at this point; he was just disappointed. How in Primus's name was he going to tell his already departed comrades in the Well of Allsparks that he was done in by a hungry desert? "I've survived a bloody war and now…now…a buncha sand's gonna…"

It was no use. No matter how much he fought it, Crosshairs could not stop the impending forced shutdown. His optics slid shut and all his systems slowly ceased functioning, and the last thing he was aware of was the gritty sand sucking him down to his faceplate.

…

…

…

**INTERFERENCE HAS CEASED. STASIS ENDING. INTERFERENCE HAS CEASED. STASIS ENDING.**

There were two reasons why Crosshairs despised going into stasis. One, it left him vulnerable to attack. And two, he never knew how long it lasted since it felt like no time passed while one was in stasis.

His optics flew open and immediately his first instinct was to grab one of his guns. His arms, however, would not move. Disorientation drifted through his systems as everything slowly turned back on, and Crosshairs blinked rapidly as he took in his surroundings. A black ceiling met his gaze and when he turned his helm, he nearly choked in shock.

It was like Crosshairs was in one of the human horror movies Bumblebee loved to watch. Large tanks of strange…things…floated in a suspended state in vivid green liquid in a large room. Some looked organic, with squishy bits and fur. Some looked…not completely organic—they were a combination of metallic substances and flesh.

But they all looked like monstrosities.

Looking down at himself, Crosshairs sent a curse to every Prime that had ever existed. His arms, legs, and chassis were strapped down to a table of some sort, and when he angled his helm just right, he saw that his guns were missing from within his cloak. Aside from the disgusting…things…in the tanks, there were various machinery scattered around the room with complicated scientific bullshit scrawled across the screens in Cybertronian.

_In…Cybertronian? What? _

"Marvelous! You're awake!"

An unfamiliar wrenched Crosshairs' attention from the laboratory setting and to the shadows at his peds. A figure stepped out and into the dim, sickly light. It was a Cybertronian, no doubt. Their framework was a deep purple that practically blended with the shadows, save for the bright green bio-lights on their chassis and helm. Their faceplate was an extremely gray that bordered on black, and their optics were the same green as their bio-lights—which, coincidentally, was the same toxic green as the liquid that the freaky things were suspended in. Their helm curved into an almost triangular, beak-like form around the faceplate and strapped to the left arch was a set of magnifying glasses that most medics and scientists had worn back on Cybertron. Their entire appearance was one that reminded Crosshairs of toxins, poisons, diseases…

"Who are you and where am I?!" he demanded, attempting to break from the binds with a violent tug. It was no use—he could bare move his limbs, much less grab hold of the binds.

"My designation is Plague, dear Crosshairs," the figure cooed and as Crosshairs took in their tall, curvy form coupled with the sickening sweet voice, he realized it was a femme. "And you're in my research lab."

The femme—Plague—ran a clawed finger across his chassis over his spark chamber and Crosshairs flinched at the intimate touch. It was considered taboo to even think about coming into contact with that area unless it was your sparkmate.

_How dare this femme! I'll blast her apart once I get out of this!_

"If you're concerned about your comrades, don't worry," she giggled. Yes, giggled. Like a newborn sparkling playing with energon. "They're all safe and sound. Did you like that little trick with the sand? I do so enjoy manipulating this planet's gravity. I hope I didn't frighten you _too_ much."

There was no sign of a Decepticon or Autobot insignia anywhere on the femme's frame. Crosshairs snarled as continued to dance her fingers across his chassis, like he was some sort of toy that she was testing out. His temper flared from the insulting actions and he snapped, "Take your disgusting servos off of me! What's going on?!"

"Oh, boo." Plague pouted and stepped back, giving Crosshairs a simpering expression that made him want to retch energon all over the place. The way she looked at him, like he was an intriguing sample locked in a cage that she just couldn't wait to dig her servos into…he hated to admit it, but it unnerved him. _She _unnerved him. More than any Decepticon or even Morgan's story had.

"You're no fun. And I'm going to use you and the other Autobots for my research, dearie! _Knock Out_!" She clapped her servos together as her sugary tone took on a more brutal and severe one and the sound echoed through the lab emptily. From the back Crosshairs could hear the sound of peds noisily clumping on the ground followed by the squeaking of wheels. It got closer and closer until a figure came into view, and Crosshairs saw someone he never believed he would see again.

"_Mirage?!"_

The Autobot's once gleaming crimson frame was now rusty and scratched to hell. The blades that were usually attached to his servos were gone, as if they'd been ripped off. A deep scar cut through his helm like a heated blade had hacked into it. Neither of his optics were open and everywhere Crosshairs looked, there was hardly an area of Mirage's framework that wasn't gouged or damaged. He lay motionless on a gurney that was being pushed by another Cybertronian, one that Crosshairs didn't recognize.

The mech was definitely a Decepticon. His optics glowed deep red and his paintjob alternated between silver and a bright scarlet that was much, much more well-kept than Mirage's. In fact, if Crosshairs hadn't known better, he would have said that the Decepticon buffed himself every day. There were headlights on his chassis and tires behind him, indicating his alt mode to be a terrain vehicle—strange for a Decepticon but then again, technically as an Autobot Crosshairs shouldn't have a helicopter mode. His faceplate was an unblemished white and his pointed helm gave the impression of being extremely sharp, and judging by the aggravated expression he currently held, he was not the biggest fan of the femme.

"Ah, so you know this Autobot!" Plague grinned delightedly and patted Mirage's beat-up chassis affectionately. The mech didn't move. Crosshairs' rage continued to build inside of him and he growled low in the back of his throat. The noise seemed to please Plague for her smile widened and she let out a loud, raucous laugh that was like poison.

"He's just in stasis, dearie! I can't experiment on someone who's gone _offline _now, can I?" She placed her servos on her hips and tutted, shaking her helm. "Knock Out, explain to him just what we do here for me, will you?"

The mech known as Knock Out rolled his optics in an extremely impressive and sarcastic manner. "Are you too busy to do it yourself, _Professor_?" His tone was vindictive and mocking and somehow a stab of respect panged through Crosshairs spark, if just because it was entertaining to see the way Plague's optics narrowed at the biting remark.

"I would think you wanted to," Plague responded in a chillingly calm manner. "After all, you don't get to do much around here as it is. Do you, _Doctor_?" The title was spat out with just as acrimony as Knock Out had said hers, and the two glowered at one another like beasts competing for dominance.

Crosshairs could have cut the tension with a knife if he had wanted to.

Suddenly Plague gave a sigh as if she had just finished berating a sparkling. She placed a servo on Mirage's helm and stroked the deep scar on it almost as if it were a pet. The disgust grew within Crosshairs and mixed sourly with his fury, creating a deadly cocktail of emotions.

"I was once Megatron's first and foremost scientist. Back home on Cybertron, no one—mech or femme—could stand up to my intelligence." Plague's boasting made Knock Out roll his eyes again but he remained silent, and Crosshairs could see the intense hatred burning in his optics. "Would you care to know my specialty, Crosshairs?" She leaned forward in a hungry manner, neon-green optics boring into his in a frightening manner. They were not the optics of a sane Cybertronian.

"I would create viruses and insert them into an Autobot's system and observe the effects it would have. Then I would take my findings to Megatron and he would supply me with funds to create even more viruses, so he could use them as weapons during the war!"

A pleased, elated laugh escaped her mouth before she sobered and glanced down at the immobile form of Mirage. "Sadly, he came to Earth before he could truly use my inventions. It was such a pity. I followed him to this planet once he was reawakened from stasis and found that the resources here work quite well for my experiments!" Plague gestured to the repulsive tanks behind them before venting gloomily. "Megatron had no need of my talents while on Earth, however. After he was offlined the first time, I took Knock Out under my wing, so-to-speak." She gestured to the Con, who glared indignantly.

"Like frag you did," he snapped. "I was the chief medic of the Decepticons! I only agreed to become your partner because I was curious as to how you would make your experiments work on this wretched planet. And now look at me!" Knock Out gestured wildly to the shadowy lab around him. "Stuck underground with you!"

"What about Mirage?" Crosshairs cut in vehemently, nodding his helm to the motionless Autobot. "What does he have to do with any of this?" Crosshairs had been certain that only he and the three others had been the Autobots to survive Cemetery Wind. But if Mirage was still alive…perhaps there was hope for others.

"Oh, he was on the run from some silly humans," Plague answered with a vague wave of her servo. "I figured he'd be useful, so I saved him! But when he found out I once worked for Lord Megatron, he got quite…violent." She shrugged and a crooked grin made its way onto her faceplate. "Nothing a little virus didn't fix, of course! Then again, he was very loud the first two mixtures, but after the third one he cooperated nicely."

"You…you've been _experimenting_ on him?" Crosshairs gaped at the femme in horror.

"Of course! What else did you expect me to do?" Plague gave Crosshairs a scornful look that nearly made his anger burst out from his spark and kill her right then and there. "Let him run free so he could join you all? Where's the fun in that? But as you can see, his usefulness is starting to run its course."

The femme's acidic green optics suddenly latched onto Crosshairs and the intensity of the gaze planted an icy cold shudder within him that nearly stalled his systems. "I need more test subjects, you see. So I fibbed and let the humans think that Decepticons were attacking so they would send you all to me! It's hilarious how simple it was. The humans didn't even remember that the base I'm using is abandoned because it's too far in the desert! Now just sit tight—well, with those binds, you can't do much else—and wait so I can go get the first dosage!"

Plague gave Crosshairs an enigmatic wink and suddenly rushed away from him, disappearing back into the shadows without a word. The sensation he had dubbed as panic began to bounce around wildly in his spark, ten times worse than it had been when the sand had trapped him. _I have to get out of here, _he thought desperately, pushing against the straps covering him. _I am not about to become an experiment. And I need to get Mirage somewhere safe before he offlines. _An idea struck his processors and Crosshairs glanced up at Knock Out, who was slouching with his arms crossed and looking extremely bored. It had been obvious he despised the insane femme; Crosshairs could use that to his advantage.

"Oi, Decepticon," Crosshairs muttered, cautiously angling his arm so that the sharpest part of his frame was up against the thick straps that bound him. If he could just scrape against the material enough, maybe it would break.

"I'm not letting you go if that's what you're about to ask," Knock Out answered exasperatedly, not even glancing at him.

"I'm not an idiot," Crosshairs grunted, thanking Primus that the disdainful mech was ignoring him. "I was just going to ask why you stick with that femme even though it's obvious you'd rather shove one of her viruses into her spark."

"There isn't exactly a better alternative." Knock Out shrugged. "I'm a medic, Autobot, not a warrior. I specialize in examinations and the occasional surgery. Though I am _quite _proficient in cutting things into pieces." He grinned smugly to himself like he forgot that Crosshairs was there as his servo transformed into a ragged sawblade that would most definitely cut through any Cybertronian's frame.

Crosshairs felt the straps get looser as he continued to rub his arm against it, keeping his optics on Knock Out in case the Decepticon decided to turn his attention from himself. "Our medic was offlined by Lockdown and the humans," Crosshairs recollected in a composed tone. "We could use one. Perhaps…you and I could come to an agreement, mate? Take down the femme, get the rest of my team and Mirage out of here…and you could join us."

Knock Out paused in his inspection of his sawblade and Crosshairs saw his optics narrow as he contemplated the offer. "…hm…I must admit that what you say is tremendously tempting," he mused, tapping a clawed servo on Mirage's helm. "I would love nothing more than to see Plague's spark go out as her disgusting faceplate twisted in agony." He smirked at the image, and Crosshairs practically saw the gears turning in the Decepticon's processors. "But I _am _a Decepticon. Why would an Autobot such as yourself trust me?"

"Because we can always kill you if you decide to deceive us."

Before Knock Out could answer and before Crosshairs had completely severed the binds around him, Plague returned. She emerged silently from the shadows like how a pandemic spreads across a settlement, holding a vial in her servo. It sloshed against the glass as she sauntered over to Crosshairs and the liquid inside was a bioluminescent, sickly blue that Crosshairs knew would not be beneficial to have in his systems.

_Frag, just a little more and I should have this one cut…!_

It was a stroke of luck that neither Knock Out nor Plague had noticed the loosening binds.

"This is supposed to cut off all your processors' commands to the rest of your body," Plague explained sweetly, tapping the vial as she hovered over Crosshairs. "The key words are _supposed to. _I've not yet had a chance to test it since poor Miragey-poo has gone into stasis, and I can't exactly use dear Knock Out!"

Knock Out narrowed his optics and scowled so deeply Crosshairs wouldn't have been surprised if it left permanent markings. "Even when you prefix my name with 'dear,' it doesn't sound any better."

"Oh, hush, you!" Plague snapped, saccharine tones slipping immediately into a slimy, venomous voice once again. She busied herself with one of the computer-like machines next to the examination table that Crosshairs was strapped to and set the vial down, typing complicated formulas into the screen as she hummed to herself.

Crosshairs turned his helm to meet Knock Out's optics. _It's now or never, _he conveyed in his stare, hoping the medic would get the message. He had cut through almost the entirety of the strap; once his arm was free, then he could get the rest of them off.

Knock Out slowly looked from Crosshairs to Plague's back and then down to his sawblade. His faceplate wrinkled in scrutiny as he examined the tool, optics flickering once more to Plague. The femme continued to mindlessly type into the computer, completely oblivious to the world.

Before Knock Out made a move, however, the pressure in the laboratory suddenly doubled.

A crackling sound like a storm creating an army of lightning sounded in the middle of the room and Plague spun around, previously deranged and thrilled expression going to one of bewilderment. A burst of light appeared like some sort of deity was materializing and a large glowing blue-white rift split the air in half and a small figure became visible through what Crosshairs could only call a portal. The figure stepped out of the portal and into the lab and Crosshairs did about five double takes as he realized who it was.

"Morgan?! How the frag did you—?!"

Crosshairs was really getting tired of surprises and judging by the stunned appearance on the human femme's face as she gaped at the sight before her, so was she.


End file.
